


NiimaRide

by witchsoup



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchsoup/pseuds/witchsoup
Summary: Journey urge her not tostop believin'but provide no further clarification before she's strapped in the back seat and they're pulling away from the only real break she's had in twenty-four years.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Tallissan Lintra/Paige Tico
Comments: 10
Kudos: 111
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	NiimaRide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [datswatutink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/datswatutink/gifts).



> This is my first work in the fandom! I am so excited to participate in this exchange, and I hope you enjoy!

Leia Organa is sitting closest to the door when Rey enters, and as she stands, holding out her right hand, Rey fumbles with the folder she is gripping, white-knuckled.

“Senator Organa, it’s an honor-”

“I’m sure it is, Miss-” she casts a glance at her notes, and looks up at Rey, eyes searching. “San Tekka?”

“Just call me Rey.”

“I’m sure these faces are all familiar to you, but this is our Treasurer, Admiral Ackbar, our secretary, Mon Mothma, and my brother, Luke.”

Rey smiles, lifting her chin and presenting her hand in turn to each of the panel members, before hesitating only for a moment in front of Luke Skywalker.

“It’s a prosthetic, kid. Not a hook,” he says.

Rey reaches for the glass set out on the table, lifting the bottle in the direction of the panel as if to ask their permission, before downing a pitiful mouthful of water.

“You can set up your laptop over there,” said Leia. “My assistant has all the... dongles, whatever.”

Rey glances at a stiff-looking man in the corner, who cradles a gold iPad to his chest.

“I don’t have a laptop. With me, I mean. I don’t have a laptop with me.”

“I was under the impression you were a tech startup,” says the man in the corner, his words curt and crisp. He purses his lips.

Slinging her battered leather bag around to reach inside, Rey places a single, pristine copy of her business plan on the table. It was delivered to her yesterday, and when Paige pressed it into her grateful hands she had whispered “This one’s on that creep from the print room,” before smiling brightly at Tallie and announcing it was time for them to go home and pulling her fiancée quickly from the room.

Then, she pulls out a can of soup.

“Can I start?” She glances at Leia, who raises her brows.

“Looks like you already have.”

Taking a deep breath, she spins the can around so the label faces them.

“Give me your best guess at how much this cost me.”

“Fifty cents,” offers Mon Mothma.

“Wrong,” says Rey. “Eighty-eight cents. Walmart.”

She produces a second, identical can from the bag.

“What about this one?”

Leia smirks.

“Let me guess... not eighty-eight cents.”

“One dollar, sixty-nine cents. From the only store within a mile of my apartment.” She takes a deep breath. “Chicago is one of the worst food deserts in America. One in eight Americans lives under the threat of food insecurity. A disproportionate number of them are African-American. Thirteen million of them are children. I was one of them.”

Forcing her hands to her sides, brushing at the hem on her shiny suit skirt, she continues in a more restrained voice.

“My business is called NiimaRide. It’s a community ride-sharing app where those with cars, or the means to travel on public transport, or even those who are fit enough to walk, can volunteer to collect groceries for those living in the worst affected areas,” says Rey in a rehearsed, measured tone. “People post their grocery lists, somebody volunteers, and they’ll have a NiimaRide card to pay for the food before we bill the user. What I’m asking for is help to develop my business. To get me in front of the big-name stores so they’ll buy ads on our app in exchange for offering coupons and discounts to our volunteers, and-“

Luke raises a hand.

“Niima ride. What is that? It sounds more like you’re some idiot trying to be the next Uber or Lyft- it’s... confused.”

“It’s a play on words. Part of a marketing campaign, maybe. ‘Need a ride? NiimaRide.”

The look of confusion on his face remains.

“Niima is where I grew up. Where I still live.”

Mon Mothma’s mouth tightens.

“That’s near Jakku, correct? Where all of those car thieves operate.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Mothma, there aren’t many cars to steal in Jakku. That’s part of our problem.” Frantically typing her password into her phone, a battered and well-loved yellow iPhone 5C, she pulls up the NiimaRide app.

“It’s already fully functional, aside from the card payments: I’ve got a couple of volunteers already taking on requests out of pocket, and I really think it could work... I just need your expertise.”

Leia takes the phone in her hand, smiling at the animation of an ear of corn behind the wheel of a car.

“And our investment,” says Admiral Ackbar. “You know you’re going to have a hell of a lot of paperwork if you even think about a contract with MasterCard- how do you expect to make a single cent out of this thing?”

“We don't really. But to pay the staff, we expect to take a cut of the savings our customers make, and maybe even in a more compassionate political climate, a percentage of whatever tax relief we can get from the government.”

Luke begins to laugh, glancing at Admiral Ackbar, and begins to flip through her business plan, absentmindedly dog-earring the front page.

“I think that’s all we need to hear, Miss Niima.”

“San Tekka,” says Rey, gathering her cans and stuffing them back into her bag. She smiles tightly. “Waste not, want not. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen.”

The lobby of the hotel where they’re holding the interviews is sleek and glassy, as is the woman behind the reception desk, who calls to Rey as she rushes out of the conference room.

“Miss? Do you need your parking validated?”

She doesn’t bother looking back, slowing only for the crawl of the revolving door. Luke Skywalker’s laugh replays in her head and she stumbles when the door stutters to a stop, a brief alarm sounding.

There’s a bus stop a block away, she knows from late-night Google maps reconnaissance missions, so she drops her bag to the ground, holding it steady between her good shoes, as she forces her arms into her thin jacket. It looks like rain.

She ignores the vibration from her pocket and heads in the direction of the stop: it’s probably Plutt, demanding she cover a shift on her only day off this week. Zipping her jacket, she steps out into the street, and almost falls back at the sound of someone leaning on their horn.

“It went that well, huh?” asks Finn, leaning out of the passenger window and grinning at her furiously thrown up her middle finger.

Poe points to the sign on the pavement that demands a dollar for every fifteen minutes of parking and turns up the volume on the terrible 80’s station his radio is permanently tuned to.

Journey urge her not to _stop believin’_ but provide no further clarification before she’s strapped in the back seat and they’re pulling away from the only real break she’s ever had in twenty-four years.

* * *

_Mother -_

_This isn’t a business plan. It’s a fairytale. Even if we assume she actually has the app development skills, the likelihood of finding enough repeat users to get it off the ground is slim to none. Nobody is going to get involved in this thing out of the goodness of their heart, especially not the big name stores. Without their support, our efforts would be useless. I say steer clear of her and go with that Professor who wants to teach inner city kids about bats - maybe that’ll save their parents on rabies shots, at least._

_Ben_

_PS: do the people she’s trying to “help” even have phones that can run an app like this?_

_Dear Ben,_

_Speak to C about booking your hotel in Chicago. I want you to deliver the cheque in person. Please remember who pays your salary._

_PS: I didn’t raise you to be a snob. If smart phones can get people out of war zones, they can get people to the grocery store. Do not let your father hear you say things like that._

_Love,  
Mom_

_Leia Organa, Ph.D.  
Senator for Connecticut  
Founder, Alderaan Foundation_

_Mom -_

_Yes you did._

* * *

Rey straightens, flinching at the rattle of the shutter before tossing the keys to Rose.

“You’re sure you’re ok to run the keys over to Plutt?”

“I owe you for finding that loose screw under my SSD.” She tucks them into her puffer jacket. “I was so freaked out about the price, I didn’t even think to check.”

“Next time, maybe I’ll just take the hundred dollars,” says Rey with a smile. “See you in the morning.”

She puts on her helmet, bending slightly so that Rose can rub its battered orange decal.

“Only if you don’t wipe out on that death machine.”

They part ways, Rose heading for the main road and Rey to the back alley where her bike is tucked behind the Dumpster.

Forty minutes of weaving in and out of rush hour traffic later, Rey unloads her saddlebags and calls for the rickety elevator with a single, straining finger. She shifts from one foot to the other, blowing and puffing at an errant, sweat-soaked strand of hair.

When the doorbell remains stoically silent despite her most earnest efforts, she drops both bags to the floor and knocks on the peeling wood. With her sleeve, she wipes a smear of grease off the tiny plaque that says ‘San Tekka’ over the peephole.

A series of shuffling sounds is followed by a jingle and the scrape of metal and wood against poor eyesight. The noise stops, suddenly.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Laurie.”

The old man is already smiling when he opens the door. His eyes, milky with cataracts, are nevertheless shining when he sees her, and he moves to give Rey a familiar hug.

“How have you been?”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do when left to my own devices, Rey.”

He bends to pick up one of the abandoned bags, but Rey snatches it up before he can move more than a few inches. Laurie opens his mouth to protest, but she widens her eyes, and jerks her chin down the hallway, towards the kitchen.

“Payment upfront, remember?”

Laughing, he leads the way, before picking up the coffee pot by the sink. She’s already waiting, arm and mug outstretched, with half a cookie in her mouth.

“Well earned wages,” he says. “How much do I really owe you?”

“Twenty,” says Rey, spraying crumbs.

He surveys the counter, and the food she’s already started to unpack.

“All this cost you twenty dollars?”

She nods, emphatically.

“I’m surprised you got here so fast, seeing as you came from 1990.”

“Rose and I were pissing about in the shop and invented light-speed travel. Commuting’s a breeze.”

He presses two twenty dollar bills into her hand, soft and wrinkled from age and the friction from the pocket of his slacks.

“Come on,” says Laurie, checking his watch. “It starts in a minute.”

When his back is turned, Rey quickly pops open the fridge, covertly sniffing its contents and tossing a suspicious-looking packet of bacon into the trash. Then she unloads the rest of the bags, rapidly opening and closing his pantry, the freezer, and the cabinet under the sink where he keeps the most questionable sponges. The fresh pack, she intends as a gentle suggestion.

She enters the living room, and moves a couch cushion off to the side, falling back into her customary position. Tom Selleck is on screen, displaying his usual gravitas. Within minutes, tucked into the old, sagging couch and surrounded by the smells of her childhood, Rey is asleep, hands curled into her chest.

Laurie’s hand is gentle on her shoulder, and he says her name, quietly, so as not to startle her, though she jerks into wakefulness all the same.

“It’s late, Rey. Maybe you shouldn’t drive home in the dark. I could make up your bed, and-”

“I have to open the shop tomorrow, and I don’t have a toothbrush,” Rey reminds him, wiping at her mouth.

“That’s not true.”

“I have no toothbrush that doesn’t have a Disney princess on it.”

He smiles, and hands Rey her jacket when she reaches for it.

“You haven’t said a word about that interview your friends drove you all that way for.”

She is silent a moment, but her hands go still inside her pockets.

“It was a waste of good gas money, Laurie. And a waste of time.”

“Oh.” His face falls. “You didn’t get it.”

“They didn’t even bother to formally reject me. Complete radio silence.”

“But no news is-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” says Rey, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

He kisses her on the forehead, gently, moving just as slowly as the first time he had ever done so, two months after the social worker had brought her here with little more than a shrug by way of explanation.

“Their loss, Rey.”

* * *

The traffic lights are not on her side en route home, but she knows at least that Poe will have left her a third of whatever he cooked for a Friday night dinner: with any luck, chicken in pumpkin sauce or one of the other dishes he grew up eating. He’s never been able to master mac and cheese the way Finn likes it, or the way any of them like it, for that matter.

Parking near their building is hit or miss, with certain streets she avoids because she knows exactly who’ll be watching her walk home. It’s never a good idea to come back to a cold, empty apartment.

She spies a battered red Ford that looks like it belongs to Tallie, and pulls in behind it, confirming the license plate with a glance. Although they live on the fourth floor, she can always tell when someone’s home from the glow of the battery-operated lights hanging in their living room window, the ones Poe insists will stay put until their batteries run out. He denies it, but she has a sneaking suspicion he’s replacing them on the sly while nobody’s home.

Ringing the intercom to let her roommates know she’s on her way up, Rey shoves open the door to the building, lunging to catch it when the wind threatens to slam it against the frame. It slams anyway. She winces, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder. There’s no guarantee their soap-opera neighbors won’t keep her awake into the small hours, but Rey can’t think beyond getting inside, having a much-needed shower, and filling her stomach.

The smiley face sticker on their door greets her in lieu of either of her friends, but she calls out to them as she crosses the threshold.

Their apartment is a lot more crowded than she expects.

Rose jumps up from the couch, holding something furtively behind her back. Paige and Tallie are by the speakers, fiddling with Paige’s phone and flicking randomly between input channels.

“Where are Finn and Poe?”

“Right here,” answers Finn, touching her shoulder as he passes. Standing with his back to her, starts to whisper to Rose. He’s holding a pillow.

“I’ve had the longest day. I fell asleep at Laurie’s, my mouth tastes all weird, and my eyes are so dry I think my contact lenses are going to have to be surgically removed,” she says in one breath. “Get whatever this is over and done with, and let me go to sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” says Poe at her ear. “And the dead.”

He grips her upper arm, and she smiles as she flexes her bicep for him. Then, he moves to pinch her, and she slaps at his hand.

Rose ducks under Finn’s arm, and emerges with an envelope resting on top of Rey’s best pillow. The other one is so thin she carries a headache around all day if she sleeps on it.

“It’s for you.”

It’s as if an elevator has moved off before she has planted her feet: a tightness obstructs her throat, and her stomach clenches.

The envelope is addressed to Ms. Rey San Tekka, and it bears the logo of the Alderaan Foundation.

“Fuck,” says Rey. “I can’t open that.”

Tallie laughs.

“They only send the good card stock to the winners. It’s just like college envelopes.”

“That’s not true. Is it? Finn, is that true?”

He holds up his hands in the universal sign for ignorance, and Rose thrusts the envelope into her hands, eyes shining.

“This is it. This is us, making a difference.” She sets her jaw. “This is us getting out of that stupid store, and telling Unkar Plutt where to shove his nine dollars an hour.”

“Oh my god, can we stop being so dramatic,” Poe says, reaching over Rey’s shoulder to grab at the envelope.

Rey makes a high pitched noise of annoyance, quickly sidestepping and holding the envelope out of his reach.

“Give me a fucking second, Poe.”

She slides her finger along the opening of the envelope, gently, and when the letter inside is finally free, the first word she sees is _‘delighted.’_

“Fuck me.”

“What does it say? Rey, what does it say?”

“It says Unkar Plutt, get fucked.”

Rose throws herself back on the couch, hands on her face and shoulders shaking. Paige starts to laugh, and crosses the room to pull at her sisters hands, until she’s on her feet and they’re dancing with excitement, tears on Rose’s face.

“Let Tallie read it,” Finn says, grinning. He looks over to her. “Do the voice.”

She passes Tallie the envelope, gently.

There is a straightening of shoulders, and a shift in the set of Tallie’s mouth as she takes on the affect of Leia Organa.

“Benjamin Kenobi is this country’s only hope,” says Tallie, in an unnerving impression of the woman Rey had met only weeks before, and the phrase everyone seems to mimic, from political pundits to kids on TikTok, and most famously, a sex worker who claimed to have spent a night with Trump in Hong Kong in the early noughties.

She grins.

“Ok, I’ve got it,” she announces, and delves into the character once more, clearing her throat.

She takes Rey’s hand and fixes her with a reproachful, motherly stare.

_“Dear Rey,_

_I am delighted to inform you that we have selected you as the recipient of this year’s Bail Organa Grant, and a mentoring contract with our business development staff. Our decision panel was very impressed with your personal knowledge of the hardships faced in some of America’s most vulnerable communities, and the practical steps you have taken to encourage mutual support in your community. Please find attached an information packet, which includes the contact information you will need to take the next steps in starting your business. I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all the best in this venture, and I hope we will meet again soon._

_Kind regards,  
Leia Organa.”_

“So how much are they giving you?” Poe asks. “And who are they going to send out to chaperone you?”

Rose looks to Rey, whose mouth is agape, before she says, “Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” whispers Rey. She holds it out for Rose to see. “They gave me Leia’s assistant’s business card. Maybe he’ll be the one they send with the contract.”

Rose snorts.

“I’ve heard that guy never even gets on a plane with her. Too skittish. That’s why she never showed up to the Ben Kenobi rally in March.”

She tucks the thick, glossy card behind the rest of the brochures, so that only the last few letters of _C. Pearson-Oliver III, Executive Assistant,_ peek out over the top.

“Whoever it is, you know they’re going to come in and try to take over, right?” says Finn, who takes the pages from her and scans them with a frown.

“Nobody from Leia Organa’s little Connecticut clique can run this business better than Rey can. If they don’t like it, they can give her the cheque and leave.” Rose smiles at Rey, hands in fists at her side.

She looks up from the page of Foundation Affiliates, columns of accolades and tasteful suits.

“Of course.” Chucking the envelope onto the couch, she grins. “Someone feed me. I’m a rich woman now, you might get a tip out of it.”

“How about thirty percent?” asks Poe, already through the doorway of the kitchen.

Rey laughs, and blinks away the image in her mind. The unsmiling face of the Alderaan Foundation’s Business Development Manager belongs to Leia Organa’s son.

* * *

The captain announces their imminent descent into Chicago, as the air hostess discreetly reaches across Ben to replace his neighbor’s tray table.

“Devices stowed for landing, sir,” she reminds him.

He draws a final red line across his screen, snapping the case back over his tablet. Then, he passes her his empty glass, two inches of water mixing with the spirits that had failed to send him to sleep. When she passes, he pulls out his cell phone to check the handful of notifications he received before takeoff. A single message from Hux, three from C, and one missed call from his mother.

_09:56 I thought you never got out of bed for less than 10k_

_10:11 You need to be at the lawyers’ office at 09:45 tomorrow_  
_10:11 Please ask Miss San Tekka to bring along all of her relevant documents_  
_10:14 Tell me you know what the relevant documents are Ben_

_10:27 (1) missed call_

12:45 He ignores all but one of the messages and shoves the phone back into the inner pocket of his suit when he sees the failed message badge.

_I can still expense the espresso_

The plane touches down, and he hears brief applause, rolling his eyes. Though he paid for the extra legroom, he’s forced to stay seated until the aisle clears. He pulls his satchel over his head, making to stand, and stops short behind a small woman straining to retrieve her bag from the overhead locker.

He reaches over her head, pulling it down with ease and holding it in front of her face. She turns, looking delighted.

“Thank you, sir,” she says with a smile, but her face falls at his stony expression.

They shuffle, penned and pressed, along the aisle. The moment he steps into the omnipresent Chicago rain, Ben turns the collar of his coat up, squinting at the clouds in the bright, interminable grey. His phone begins to ping as it picks up on cell signal, but he ignores it in favor of lengthening his stride, hoping to at least have a handhold on the shuttle. A backpacker dawdles in his way, and Ben steps around them, making a beeline for the back of the bus. After making it through the tedium of passport control, he spies his suitcase disappear under the filthy plastic flaps of the luggage carousel. The expensive black leather, that he checks regularly for the telltale scuffs of haphazard handling, is well prepared for another trip into the Chicago weather. Still, his mouth twists and Ben looks at his watch.

He’s craving a coffee and a hot sandwich, a shower and a chance to unpack his clothes, to center himself after the whirlwind journey from D.C. Though he often struggles to fall asleep until the sun drags itself up over the horizon, he has never quite been able to give up on sleeping altogether. He’s almost always, almost late.

His first port of call is a cab to the hotel, and when he finally snakes a hand through the crowds to grab his bag, Ben heads for the front door. He bypasses the handful of drivers waiting with placards, black hats, and bored faces.

“Mr. Solo!” An unfamiliar voice calls out to him. “Mr. Solo, over here!”

Turning, he sees a young, fresh-faced woman holding a crumpled piece of paper bearing the Alderaan Foundation logo, and the word ‘SOLO’ in 48pt Helvetica.

He frowns, crossing the flow of passengers and pulling his case to a sharp stop behind him.

“Mr. Solo, I’m Rey San Tekka,” she says, thrusting out her hand. “You’re here for me. I mean- you’re here to meet with me.”

“Not for another... twenty-one hours, by my watch.”

Her face falters, but she shakes his hand all the same. The girl’s wet brown hair, coupled with her shapeless grey coat and battered leather boots, make her look even younger than he knows she is.

A quick Google search last night informed him that although she doesn’t have a LinkedIn (foolish) she openly broadcasts her attendance at the City Colleges of Chicago (naive). Even more puzzling is her relatively small social media footprint. For all he knows, she could have sprung up from the foam on the shores of Lake Michigan less than four years ago. What she does have is an Associate in Engineering Science degree, and a healthy GitHub profile.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Solo,” says Rey. Her face suggests that she is not, in fact, sorry in the slightest. Her face dimples, as if she has taken the meat of her cheek between her teeth. “Mr. Pearson-Oliver called me with your flight details, so I thought-”

“C called you? That explains it.”

She appears puzzled, but before he can elaborate an even smaller woman appears with a cardboard cup holder, bearing three Starbucks cups.

“Mr. Solo? Good to meet you, I’m Rose Tico. Have some coffee.”

Instead of offering her hand for him to shake, she shoves the cup in his direction before announcing, “We have a fifteen-minute parking limit. We have to go, right now.”

“I don’t drink coffee, Miss Tico.”

Rey’s frown deepens, and she goes to take it from him, but Rose puts up a hand to stop her.

“Of course you do, Mr. Solo. You just don’t drink coffee with milk. It’s black. What an age we live in, huh? Now with all due respect, Mr. Solo, we’re on a clock, and we drove an hour and a half to come and get you, so you’ll forgive us if we’re in a hurry.”

Once Ben is duly squashed into the front of a decrepit red Ford, he turns to the girl in the driver’s seat, momentarily stunned by the absurdity of her hair.

“Where exactly are you taking me, Miss San Tekka?”

“Call me Rey. Headquarters,” she replies, three buns bobbing as she glances over her shoulder, pulling into the next lane. “My apartment. You should meet the rest of the team.”

“I’m underdressed for a business meeting.”

She surveys him with a glance, taking in his grey cashmere sweater and tasteful, comfortable, designer jeans. That, coupled with his carefully tousled, expensive haircut, he looks like a catalog for business casual.

She snorts.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

They’re quiet for a while, traffic blessedly light, and Ben stares out the window so that he can pretend not to notice Rey sneaking worried glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He’s not oblivious to the fact that the streets are growing steadily more narrow, buildings a little more dilapidated and sidewalks a little more uneven.

If this is the nature of pro bono work, he thinks, maybe he could do worse.

“I can carry your suitcase,” she offers when they pull up outside the apartment.

“Why can’t I just leave it in the car?” Asks Ben, and the two women share a look of trepidation. He sighs. “It’s perfectly well hidden in the trunk.”

“We don’t want to be held responsible for you stuck in Chicago for a week with no clean clothes. No offence, but you don’t look like you’d last a day without a fresh pair of underwear, and-”

“Thank you, Rose. I will carry the suitcase.”

She pops open the lid of the trunk, and swings the bag up and out, knocking the wind out of Ben where he stands, ready to take it from her.

“Fuck,” he gasps, a hand on his stomach.

“Shit. I can get Paige, she’s a medic.”

“Please. Just let me sit.”

He props himself up against the car, which bobs slightly with his weight.

“What the fuck have you got in this bag?” Rey asks, hefting its weight against her leg.

Ben narrows his eyes.

“The essentials.”

Rey bristles, but looks past him to say, “Rose, I need you to prep them.”

The other woman laughs, a short, derisive sound, and scoops up the handle of Ben’s suitcase. Rey looks unimpressed as he continues to massage his ribs.

“We don’t know each other, but from what I can tell, we don’t have very much in common.” She crosses her arms. “This isn’t a pet project for me, and it’s not something to stick on the end of my gold-plated resume, either.”

“That sounds inefficient.”

“What does?” Her brows draw together.

“A gold plated resume. Sounds heavy. And not particularly durable.”

Rey’s expression remains stony.

“I know as much about you as Google does, and that’s not much,” says Ben.

“Nobody can know as much about anyone as Google does. How about we agree to pretend like your pitiful attempts at online stalking never happened, and get on with it.”

“What am I supposed to be getting on with, exactly?”

* * *

“Explain it again, I’m not hearing it,” says Poe.

“I work for a think tank-”

“And again, I say, work is a strong word.”

“-in D.C.”

“On the hill?” Finn asks.

“No. My mother works on the hill.”

“And what does your dad do?”

“Nothing,” says Ben, at the same time as Rey says, “He’s a pirate.”

Rose’s jaw drops at the mention of the word.

“Like as in Somali pirates? Like Captain Phillips?”

“My parents are estranged, and my father’s current whereabouts are unknown, so-”

“Last I heard, he took a hundred thousand dollars cash from a superyacht coming from Dubai.”

She shrugs.

“He’s a legend. He’s Robin Hood.”

“My mother is a Senator, who is best known for her philanthropy, and advocacy for women’s rights.”

“Hey, you took that straight from her Wikipedia page.” Finn looks delighted, holding up his cell phone. “Look, you have one too, Benjamin.”

Ben stands, grabbing his coat.

“It’s time for me to go. Are you going to drive me?”

Rey pulls Finn’s phone out of his hands, dropping it into her pocket.

“I suppose I am. Give me a minute.”

Ben says nothing, pulling out his own phone and ducking to avoid the fairy lights on his way into the hall.

“At least he’s hot,” says Poe. When Rey glares at him, he simply shrugs. “Some people can pull off the whole never smiling thing.”

“What about me?” Asks Finn.

“If you never smiled, I’d go to the ends of the earth to find you name-brand antidepressants. I’d go to Canada. That’s true love.”

Poe presses a kiss to Finn’s cheek, then flips on the television.

“Tell the Hulk not to wreck Tallie’s car.”

“Hulk? He’s definitely an Iron Man,” Rose protests as Rey gets up to follow Solo out.

She stops in the doorway of the apartment and listens to the hushed conversation on the other side of the door.

“It’s like a youth hostel.”

Silence, but for his slow, measured steps in a tight circle on the landing.

“I’ve seen them in movies. I was expecting to be sent to some community center that needed a new roof, or, a special needs school that want to build a stable- hand over the cheque, Tweet the picture, take the next flight home.”

She watches as he peels a stripe of paint from the underside of the bannister.

“It’s a disaster. I was supposed to be at the hotel three hours ago. I wasn’t supposed to get stuck here with these… scruffy children.” He pauses, checking his watch. “Yes, well, if she put this proposal on my desk in the office, I would have had Mitaka mail it straight back to her. These kids are going to be stuck in this shit hole for the rest of their unexceptional little lives-”

“Are you ready?”

Ben jumps, already pulling his phone away from his ear, and hangs up without another word. His face, however, is still smooth and calm.

“When you are.”

Rey knows from the many attachments in her email chain with Leia’s assistant that he’s staying at the Hyatt Regency, and so the car ride, the first time she’s been alone with the man who is supposed to change her life and help her make something of herself, is filled only with a chilly silence.

The radio is playing softly, but when the host announces it’s time for a call-in competition, Ben switches it off without a moment of hesitation. In the driver’s seat, Rey stews. It gets to be a little too much when she sees the splendor of his home away from home, for the next week at least. It’s a gem, glistening, story upon story of sleek architectural elegance. She hates him for it. There is a red light ahead, so she accelerates to make up the last few yards between her and the car in front, then jerks to a stop.

“You can walk from here, right? It’s murder to park in this area.”

“We’re stopped at a light.”

“Not for long.”

“I have a bag in the trunk.”

“I’m glad for you. After all, you can’t wear that to meet the lawyer tomorrow. What would they say if you turned up wearing that? It’s going to be bad enough, having to sit with me.”

Ben frowns, hand stilling on his seat belt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The traffic light is reflected in Rey’s eyes as it changes from red to brilliant green. Other cars begin to sound their horns.

“You’d better go, or else I’m going to get a ticket.”

“I need my bag,” he says, slowly, in the way one might tell a jumpy police officer they’re just reaching for their license.

“You already said that,” she says, and turns to face him. “Please get out of this car. Please get out, right now.”

By the time he has retrieved his bag, the light is back to red. She rolls down the window.

“Mr. Solo?” She calls to his retreating back, and smiles when he turns. “I’ll pick you up at nine.”

* * *

_10:09 (3) missed calls_

Ben drops his umbrella into the stand by the door, leaving a trail of water in his wake. He shoves his wallet back into his pocket, and checks his watch. Despite the cab driver’s best efforts, he’s almost thirty minutes late.

The receptionist is a young woman wearing a headscarf, deftly routing calls as fast as she can say “Holdo and Associates, how may I direct your call?”

“My name is Ben Solo, I was supposed to be meeting Amilyn Holdo at nine-thirty.”

Her eyes widen at the time, but she doesn’t break stride as she continues to push buttons on her console.

“Take the elevator to the fourth floor and ask for Connix.”

Ben frowns, and opens his mouth to protest.

“Fourth floor. Connix. Go. Holdo and Associates, how may I direct your call?”

The elevator is painfully slow, panelled in a claustrophobic glossy wood stain. A man in front of him speaks in rapid Cantonese into the speaker on his earphones, and Ben is forced to slow his breathing and close his eyes for a moment, and then it is over, as fast as it had begun: they’re on the fourth floor.

Although the walls are mostly glass, there is a frosted stripe which is supposed to conceal people’s faces, and by the same token, their conversation, from prying eyes. Unfortunately, he can see over it, and he can see Rey laughing with a blonde woman he assumes is Connix.

When he knocks, Rey smirks.

“Mr. Solo. We’ve been having so much fun waiting for you, please, come in,” says the woman, offering her hand. Her face is carefully arranged in a polite smile. “Kay Connix. I’m your mother’s biggest fan.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” says Ben, moving towards the seat to the left of Rey.

“Oh, I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten. I haven’t seen her in, what, three months? How is she?”

He unbuttons his suit jacket, eyes cast towards his damp sleeves when he answers, “Sounds like you would know better than me, Ms. Connix.”

Kay’s placid expression falters for a moment, but she leans over the table to hand Ben his copy of the contract.

“It’s all very standard, and I’m sure you’ve signed several of these during your time with the Foundation, Mr. Solo, so if you could just give it a read, and sign where I’ve indicated, that would be great.”

He casts his eyes to Rey, who is sitting with her back too straight, hair neat and clothes… clean, at least.

“You’ve been through everything with Miss San Tekka?” He looks at Rey again, doing his best to make eye contact despite her reluctance. “You’re happy with all of this?”

Rey’s voice is wooden.

“We had plenty of time to go through it all. I’m sure if I missed anything important, Kay would have pointed it out to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“I only just arrived,” Ben protests.

“I have work commitments.”

“And we have dinner reservations, a strategy to devise, your budget to discuss. I’m only here for a week, Rey, and you’d be a fool not to make the most of it.”

“If I don’t get back to work, my boss will sack me, because I’m not related to him. I will see you at seven - in the meantime, I’m sure you can amuse yourself, Mr. Solo. Visit the Field Museum.”

Ten minutes later, she’s pulling around the front of the building on her motorbike, when she sees Ben Solo, smiling down at a woman in heels who throws back her head in an obviously fake laugh. He’s still smiling. She revs the engine and urges the bike forward, into a higher gear. Just like that, they’re behind her.

_10:44 I thought Amilyn Holdo was an old friend_  
_11:32 Of course she is x Mom_  
_11:34 Then why was I palmed off on an associate_  
_11:52 Kay Connix is a very talented and specialized young lawyer, and C updated your calendar accordingly. He says please answer his texts in future x Mom_  
_11:59 Little Orphan Annie is a bitch_  
_12:01 Then she’s in good company x Mom_

* * *

Rey opens the battered old laptop, her second assignment of the day, to her second blue screen of death. With a sound of disgust, she pushes it to the side of her workbench.

“He doesn’t respect me,” she says, turning to Rose.

“Who?” Her voice is muffled, a pentalobe screwdriver clenched between her teeth, and she’s glaring at the underside of a stately old MacBook. “Poe? What has he done this time? He doesn’t respect anyone. Except maybe Finn. Maybe.”

She simply looks at Rose.

“What?”

“I’m talking about Ben Solo. If he carries on like this, he could sink us before we’ve even started.”

“So tell him to stop being such a dick, and that if he doesn’t you’ll request someone else as a mentor.”

Rey scoffs. “He’s not my mentor. He was forty-five minutes late to meet the lawyer, for Christ’s sake.”

“I thought you were picking him up?”

“Tallie had car trouble,” she lies, folding her arms. “You should see the way he looks at women- no wonder he thinks I’m a joke, he’s a complete misogynist.”

“I don’t think he’s a misogynist, Rey.” She holds up a hand at Rey’s squawk of protest. “Even if he is, he’s only here for a week. You need somebody to teach you how to run a business.”

She grumbles, reaching over and holding her finger against the power button of the defunct laptop until it makes a small sound of defeat, and the screen goes black.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to handle this.”

Walking around the counter she’s propped against, Rose takes a good look at her.

“This guy thinks he’s the shit, right? So treat him with indifference. Be cold. Unimpressed.”

“Are you honestly telling me to play hard to get?”

Rose smirks, shaking her head.

“I don’t play games. If you want somebody to tell you how to play it, ask Finn. But that’s all I’ve got.”

She pulls out her phone, quickly switching on the selfie camera and plucking at the end of her hair, smoothing her fingertips across her forehead and popping her lips, abruptly locking her phone when she sees Rose staring at her.

“You’re not Cinderella, Rey. He’s not Freddie Prinze Jnr.”

“Who?”

“From She’s All That.”

“Never heard of it.” She checks the time, and realizes she should have left ten minutes ago if she was going to have any chance of showering. “See you tomorrow. And remember-”

“-if anybody asks, you have the stomach flu. I know.”

* * *

Rey rarely wears her hair down, reluctant to spend any more time than necessary in the cramped nook outside of the bathroom that houses the only decent mirror in the whole apartment. Though she knows Poe would have something to say about the outfit she’s chosen, and every once in awhile his criticism is even constructive, she’s thankful that her two roommates are absent, at least for now.

A conservative squirt of Poe’s hair mousse has no visible effect on her wet hair, but she’s hopeful it will bring out a curl, or at least give her some tiny pay off for her efforts. Her small makeup bag is filled with products she’s sure expired months, if not years, before. The first lipstick wand she twists out of its pot is dry and chalky. It sits uncomfortably on her face. She throws it onto the floor, making a mental note to throw it away when she gets a spare moment. It’s only fifteen minutes until she has to run out the door, and her dress is still hanging, wrinkled, in her closet.

Dashing past her bedroom window, clutching a towel to the front of her body, she grabs the dress. Then, she closes the shower door tightly in a last-ditch attempt to steam the wrinkles out of it. Two minutes later she’s back in front of the mirror, contorting her wrists in an attempt to apply eyeliner.

Triumphantly, she smiles at the sight of two passable wings, slightly lopsided but still neat enough she hopes only she can notice. She frowns at the sound of keys, and stands just in time to see Ben Solo’s gaping mouth snap shut. For a moment she is frozen, wide eyes darting from his bewildered face to the shine of his shoes. The only other time anyone has had a red sole in this apartment was Finn's fateful tennis match on a clay pitch. It took him hours to scrub the stains out. He looks good. She looks mortified. She presses her towel closer to her body, and disappears into the bathroom without a word.

“Sounds like Rey’s still in the shower, huh?” She hears Poe drop his keys into the bowl by the door. “Women. Can’t live with them.”

“Yes,” Ben replies, hesitantly.

Rey hurriedly zips up her dress, which doesn’t look any less creased, but is sporting a light layer of condensation. Perhaps she shouldn’t have hung it on the shower rail.

“Maybe I should wait in the car.”

She hears Poe’s footsteps: he insists on wearing the same pair of shoes to drive in every day, and the sound is unmistakable.

“No, stay. She shouldn’t be much longer, I was kidding. Rey doesn’t go in for, you know, scrubbing up nicely. Or soap, really.”

“I gathered that. Can I have a glass of water, please?”

Ben sounds anxious, but Poe ignores his request.

“I’ve never slept with a woman, personally, but I think if I did, she would have to be… feminine. Just like with men. I especially prefer men who are… masculine.”

She throws the door open, and calls for Poe.

“I can’t find my shoes.”

“Here’s a tip: they’re probably wherever you left them.”

Rey takes his arm, pulling him into her bedroom, but not before she gives Ben a nod, saying, “I’ll be right with you, Mr. Solo.”

Poe lounges back on her bed, holding a pillow above his head before smashing it into his face and sprawling out, arms splayed. Rey promptly takes the pillow from him and smacks him in the nose with it.

“Ow,” he says, lower lip set in a pout.

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

He puts on his best imitation of innocence, and she raises the pillow again.

“In the very unlikely event he actually believes your impression of Jack McFarland, he could tell his mother he’s being sexually harassed, and be back on a plane in the morning.”

“How do you not know She’s All That, but you know Will and Grace?”

She frowns, confused at why Rose that was important to share, but recovers after a moment and points her finger at him.

“Promise me you’re going to stop this.”

“I don’t think what I’m doing is any worse than what you did this morning. He’s a homophobe, anyway, why should I care?”

“You don’t know he’s a homophobe-”

“-but you have iron clad proof he’s a misogynist-”

“-and if you didn’t want to talk to him, you shouldn’t have invited him up!”

There’s a knock on her door.

“Rey? We’re going to be late.”

Her eyes go wide, but when she looks back at Poe, he smiles.

“You look good. You’re welcome, for the mousse.”

She touches her hair, soft and curled at her collarbones, and sticks her tongue out at him. When Ben sees her, fully dressed this time, he doesn’t meet her eye straight away, and instead fumbles in his suit pocket. He is dressed simply, but very well, the shadow on his face more obvious than it was this morning.

“I would usually make more of an event of this, but seeing as how _this_ is your office…”

He hands Rey a white envelope stamped with her name and address, but when she turns it over, it’s unsealed. She blinks, rapidly, eyes stinging.

“Luke told me you found Connix on your own. It was smart. Makes things a lot easier for us, if you have someone in the city you can trust.”

Poe takes the cheque from her hands, whistling.

“Dibs a seat on the Advisory Board.”

It’s made out to NiimaRide, for twenty thousand dollars. Her eyes are bright, and she allows herself to be guided out of the apartment in a haze.

* * *

_19:36 The misogynist saw me almost naked and now he’s ordering wine what do I do_

Rey pushes the slider on her phone to silent, and grimaces when Ben looks across the table at her, glancing quickly at the screen.

_Rebels (6) new messages_

She pushes her phone under her thigh, and picks up the freshly poured glass of red wine. Finn insists he can appreciate wine, Poe prefers spirits for their efficiency, while Rey can count on one hand the number of times she’s been tipsy, let alone drunk. When Solo turns to catch the waiter’s eye and order a bread basket, she glances at the message previews, the first of which is a screenshot of her message to Rose, minutes after she sent it.

_Poe 19:28 Rey please fuck him_  
_Poe 19:28 Do it for me_

_Finn 19:29 You’re under no obligation to do it for me_  
_Finn 19:29 I don’t want to hear that through the walls_

_Rose 19:33 How tf did he almost see you naked_

_Paige 19:33 no rose she said he saw her almost naked not that he almost saw her naked_

_Tallie 19:36 He’s super old_

_Rose 19:37 He is not super old_  
_Rose 19:37 He is super tall though_  
_Rose 19:37 BE ALOOF_  
_Rose 19:38 USE YOUR FEMININE WILES, DUMMY_

_Paige 19:40 ur the inimitable rey san tekka pls don’t fuck him he is going to steal ur light_  
_Paige 19:40 but if you do pls be safe_

_Tallie 19:40 He has to be at least 35 tho right???_

She’s still scrolling through the new messages when she hears Ben speak, and she only catches the tail end of his question. Even so, she ignores him, choosing instead to take a slow sip of her water.

“I hope you’re not hungry, this is coming out of your pocket.”

Rey chokes on her water, and grabs for the napkin from her lap.

“Then we should be eating at McDonald’s.”

“I’m kidding. But really, if I’m paying, you can at least look up from your phone.”

She wrinkles her nose, and in her head, counts to five before she opens her mouth, before moving the phone from her lap to her purse.

“You don’t drink?”

“Rarely,” Rey replies, taking a sip, treating every word like it’s her last dollar.

“I got used to drinking wine well before it was legal. Functions.”

“And your mum was ok with it?”

“She never really went in for rules, or discipline. It was just simpler that way.”

Pointing to each item on the menu and pronouncing it as accurately as she knows how, Rey orders a small selection of Vietnamese dishes, after which Ben asks the waiter to just double their order.

“It’s no secret I wasn’t completely on board with the panel choosing you. There were a lot of worthy causes-”

“I’m not here to solicit your approval, Mr. Solo,” Rey interjects, doing her best to look haughty.

“You don’t need my approval, but you do need me. And my job is a lot easier if I’m believable. Sell me on it, so I can sell it to all the other people who just don’t get it.”

She furrows her brow, and spreads a napkin over her lap before topping up her glass.

“I’m not a commodity. Neither are the people we’re trying to help.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

She raises her brows, and waits. When he sits back, looking defeated, she permits herself a brief, smug, smile.

“It’s a simple concept. Poe and I are already doing most of the work,” she says, smirking at how he shifts uncomfortably at the mention of Poe’s name. “But it’s not accessible for people who have no family, no friends who are fortunate enough to have a car.”

“I don’t want you to explain how it works. I want you to explain where the idea came from. Why does it mean something to you- why should it mean something to anybody else?”

She picks up a slice of thick white bread from the basket in the centre of the table.

“Do you know how much food we through away every year, as a country? Billions of dollars worth. Enough to feed at least some of the people who are living below the bread line. I can’t do anything for those people, yet.”

Biting into it, she chews thoughtfully, weighing her words.

“I can help people who are a bit better off, though. I can do something right now, that not many others are doing. People are easy to exploit when they have no other options, and it’s expensive to live this way. If all I can do right now is help people to help each other, that’s enough. Maybe one day I can help people who don’t have anyone else.”

“How did...”

Ben meets her eyes.

“How did a girl from London end up in Chicago?”

It’s not the first time she’s been asked this question, most frequently by amiable strangers. Her answer, practiced and honed over twenty years, sounds to her like the prerecorded message on an answering machine.

“My parents followed a job offer out here, and the company collapsed. My dad adopted me when I turned fourteen.”

Ben is silent, and he looks dazed when the waiter places their food on the table.

“So, where are they now?”

She smiles thankfully at the young man at her shoulder, but wipes her face clean of any expression when she looks back at Ben.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

_Mom -_

_Rey is woefully naive, but at least it will diversify our portfolio. Her apartment alone has convinced me at the very least that this neighborhood needs investment. She has a plastic shower curtain. It is so bleak. Also, at dinner, she barely paid any attention to me - seems very defensive about her parents. Maybe something we have to keep an eye on._

_Ben_

_Dear Ben,_

_Women in D.C. have spoiled you. Glad you have your old mom to tell you maybe you’re just not that interesting._

_PS: Kidding! Although I don’t think the dark and mysterious act is going to fool someone like Rey. Just a thought._

_Love,_  
_Mom_

_Leia Organa, Ph.D._  
_Senator for Connecticut_  
_Founder, Alderaan Foundation_

* * *

She doesn’t see him again for two days, although each evening when she finishes work, there are several missed calls and unanswered emails waiting for her. At the very least, she knows he has found them an accountant with the requisite experience on Kay’s suggestion. Early the next morning, she’s woken by yet another phone call.

Rey answers, and lies back in silence, eyes screwed shut.

“Hello?” says Ben, voice curt.

“Mhmm.”

“Can you come here at nine instead?”

Trying to relax her jaw, she swipes her tongue across her dry lips before she answers.

“The traffic is going to be hellish.” She sneaks a look at the time on the screen. “I’m still in bed, I’ll never make it for then.”

She hears him tut at the other end of the phone.

“I really don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Rey. We’re much further behind than I’d hoped-”

“You were supposed to be coming to me, not the other way around. Excuse me for wanting to sleep past six-thirty on my day off.”

“Just get here as soon as you can.”

There is a rustle, and she hears his voice, muffled, as if he has the phone pressed against his shirt.

“And if I say no?”

Rey bites in her cheek while she waits for his reply.

“Repeat that. I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said, and what if I say no?”

“I don’t see why you would. I’ve just ordered room service for two, and we have so much work to do, I don’t think you have a choice. If this goes poorly, I go back to my day job.” He scoffs. “And my day job is a hell of a lot more rewarding than yours.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Solo.”

_07:56 So are you coming or do I have to eat all of this by myself_

The message is accompanied by a somewhat blurry photo of a receipt with at least seven different breakfast dishes on it, sitting beside a shining French press.

_08:02 I could have made us pancakes_

Rey forces back her blanket and gropes for the light switch.

_08:03 Pancakes are not appropriate breakfast meeting food_  
_08:03 I also wouldn’t touch anything you cooked with a forty-foot pole_

She arrives at his hotel, a heroic hour and ten minutes later. After giving his name at reception, she is directed to the elevators. The ride is long and uncomfortable: she picks at the decals on her helmet and studiously ignores a couple whispering and laughing in the opposite corner of the elevator. There’s not a lot of room. Rey can hear almost every word they say.

When she arrives at Ben’s room, he doesn’t even greet her, just motions for her to come inside. There is a small table by the window, and Al Jazeera English is playing on the TV. Rey opens her laptop to the page of notes she had prepared the night before, after she had removed her contact lenses and was supposedly trying to have an early night. By the time she had looked away from the words on the screen, she thought her eyesight was betraying her. In reality, she had been sitting in the dark for three hours.

“Everything is going well. Really. No, I’m taking care of it. I’m meeting with them tomorrow. No. I love you too. Bye.” He rolls his eyes, turning down the volume on the TV. “Yes. Bye.”

Ben throws his phone on the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I need coffee.”

Two hours later, Rey pulls a pen out of her mouth, putting her signature to what feels like the hundredth page of contracts and purchase orders.

“I don’t like the colors on this logo,” she says, circling the orange text. “Too garish.”

Ben crosses the room and picks up the paper, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“She’s a very talented graphic designer. And we already agreed to pay her.”

“Who’s we?” Rey asks, tugging the page out of his grip. “I haven’t seen this before now.”

“I emailed it to you two days ago. I flagged it as important. Most importantly, you signed away the rights for me to make these sorts of decisions, within reason.”

She frowns, holding it up to the light.

“It’s a prototype card design. Let it go.”

Rey’s phone buzzes with an incoming message, and she leans across the piles of paper to retrieve it.

_11:48 If you’re going to keep lying to me about where you are, I don’t want to hear another excuse. Don’t bother coming back to work tomorrow. I have permanently replaced you._

She places her phone down, gently, and presses her hand to her mouth.

“Rey?”

Ben frowns, waving a hand in front of her face.

“We really don’t have the time-”

“I think I’ve just been fired.”

His eyes widen, and when Rose’s name appears on her screen, he picks up the call.

“Rey’s phone, this is Ben.” He narrows his eyes at her when she makes a grabbing motion with her hand. “Yes, she did. Rey can’t come to the phone right now, I’ll tell her what you said.”

There is a moment of silence, and in the next, he switches the TV off.

“Rose says Plutt was listening in on her conversation. It was an accident.”

“Is she-”

“No. Her job is safe.”

Rey lets out a long breath, and stares into the middle distance. Her voice is devoid of emotion when she says, “I have to give back the money.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t live without a job. And I can’t get another job if I’m focused on this project. It just isn’t going to happen.”

“You’ll get a job in no time. You have a degree-”

A short, derisive laugh escapes from her lips.

“No, I don’t.”

“But your LinkedIn says you studied engineering at the city college. Are you saying that’s a lie? One of the reasons they chose you was your skill. I’ve seen the app- Christ, does it even work?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she snaps. Her voice is small when she continues. “I did go to college. For a year. I couldn’t afford to finish.”

Ben runs a hand through his hair.

“Maybe time to focus on this is what you need, if you’re serious about making NiimaRide work.”

Her eyes are bright, mouth set in a hard line.

“Of course I’m serious about it. I worked for that pig for two years, and I did nothing else except work on this. Dream about it. People need something like this. If there had been someone around to help my parents when things were at their worst, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t be sitting across from you.” She starts to gather her things, shoving them into her leather bag. “I know exactly what you think, and how much you hate slumming it, here. It would take me months to save up enough to spend even a few nights in this room. Don’t tell me I’m not taking this fucking seriously.”

“Rey,” says Ben. “Something will come up. Freelance work, something. But in the meantime, you have a chance to make something of this business. To be your own boss. And make sure assholes like Plutt don’t have the power to hire and fire you.”

“Things don’t just come up for people like me. I don’t run in the right circles. People hear I got fired, they don’t make a phone call. They shake their heads and are thankful they still have a job.” Her voice is small, sad. “It’s all about who you know, right? Does your mum need IT support?”

He crosses the room to his briefcase, and when he returns to the table with a copy of their contract, he begins to scribble in the margins will a ballpoint pen.

“There’s no ring-fencing of these funds. The CEO - that’s you,” he says, and Rey rolls her eyes, “-has discretion on how they’re spent, and as long as I sign off on it, you can name what you want to make into a business expense.”

“Are you telling me I can take a salary? Already?”

Sliding the paper towards her, his voice is soft when he says, “There’s no company without you.”

Her eyes widen at the number.

“Can you make this work?”

His voice is so sincere she can’t help but laugh.

“I can make a fraction of that work. But it’s not a solution-”

“No. But I think I have an idea.”

He rubs at his eyes, and for the first time, Rey notices how dark the circles under them have become.

“I’m going to get you in front of somebody at First Foods. But I need some time, maybe more than I have left in Chicago. You can get Skype, right?”

“How the fuck are you going to accomplish that?”

“I’m... friends with the COO.”

She snorts.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

* * *

_Mom -_

_Rey San Tekka just lost her job. I want to expedite the launch. Tell C I’ll call him tomorrow with details._

_Ben_

_17:22 I need a favor_  
_17:23 Can you afford it?_  
_17:23 Your cooperation, yes_  
_17:23 Your respect, maybe not_

* * *

Rey digs around the chunk of cookie, opting instead for a stripe of peanut butter running through the center of the tub.

“I’m not saying he’s nice, or that I even really like him- just that I think we judged him a bit quickly, that’s all.”

Finn jabs at the remote, pushing the pause button more times than is really necessary. The characters on screen skip a few frames before the buffering symbol appears.

“We didn’t prejudge anybody, Rey. You stormed up here and glared at us every time we tried to engage him in conversation.”

“I did not. But anyway, you’re supposed to maintain any and all negative feelings towards him in the event that he turns out to be just as bad as I thought.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t respond, hopping up from the couch to yank their router out from the wall. A few seconds later, Rey’s eyes are still resolutely fixed on the flickering yellow light.

“You just want somebody to complain to at the same time you’re talking about how great he actually is, so that when you don’t stick up for yourself, you have somebody there to comfort you.” He shakes his head. “He hasn’t given you any justification for this change of heart, and yet here you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ben has impressed me with his professionalism.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact he’s a minor celebrity? Or how he looks? Or how he looks at you?”

“He doesn’t look at me,” snaps Rey. “With anything other than disdain.”

Finn grabs her hand, pulling her down onto the sofa, and jabs a finger in her face.

“Aha! You want me to say, oh poor Rey, he’s so mean, why doesn’t he love you-“

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You want me to tell you not to try anything, because you’re a coward.”

Rey scrunches her nose, and pulls the tub of ice cream from his grip.

“Harsh.”

“Please. You’ve said way worse to me about Poe.”

She smiles, glancing in the direction of the kitchen, and the condensation rolling down the outdated glass pane in the door. All they can hear from that side of the apartment is the sizzling of various pans and the occasional swear word that Rey doesn’t understand, and isn’t sure she wouldn’t find it incredibly offensive if she did.

“Rey, what do I do?” Her words are filled with mock panic, and her impression of Finn’s accent is almost perfect. “I searched the whole of Grindr for my UPS guy and he’s not showing up. He asked me out, but maybe he isn’t even gay. He kissed me, but maybe he doesn’t really like me. He asked me to move in, but I think his rent is just really high.”

“In my defense, it is,” he grumbles.

Rey chews on her lip, and fixes Finn with her most serious face.

“What if I’m attracted to the misogynist?”

“First, I’d say good for you. Then, I’d say, is Leia Organa raised a misogynist then we may as well give up on life because it looks like the earth is doomed. Jesus, that’s like saying Greta Thunberg is secretly an oil heiress.”

She types Ben’s name into Google, and thumbs through the first few news results. Although they’re mainly about his mother’s campaign efforts for Ben Kenobi, there is also an interview in which he explains the Organa Foundation’s lobbying efforts, and an editorial alongside some of the other members of his think tank.

“He’s not an objectively terrible person, right? He works for a charity.”

“Have you heard what sort of shit the Salvation Army pulls? Working for a charity is no guarantee.”

“You have to tell me what to do,” says Rey, taking his hands. “I have to find out, either way- I have to get it out of my system, and then I can concentrate on the company. What really matters.”

Finn is quiet, for a moment, then he says, with the utmost sincerity, “Have you consulted Cosmo?”

“Shut up. I am asking for your help, as my oldest friend. Be serious, please.”

“Well, his ego is even bigger than h-”

She presses her hand to his mouth, and Poe laughs from the kitchen.

“I was going to say bigger than he is. You’re telling me you respect him? Tell Ben that. Compliment him. Ask him about himself. See how he reacts.”

Taking a deep breath, she smiles.

“Ok. That sounds… doable.”

* * *

_10 best complements to give men_

_Showing results for 10 best compliments to give men_  
_Search instead for 10 best complements to give men_

_compliments for men not objectifying_  
_respectful compliments men_  
_show a man you respect him_  
_compliments men can’t resist_  
_compliments for boys_

* * *

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met in my life.”

Rey lets her head fall to the tabletop, sneaking a look at the tiny box which shows what Ben sees during their Skype call. All it shows is the top of her hair, which she had taken extra care with this morning, though her ever-present three buns remain, well, present.

“I disagree,” says Ben. “You were previously employed by Unkar Plutt. On name alone, surely I have something going for me that he doesn’t.”

“You’re just as cruel. This is too hard. Why can’t I just do a voice-over on a video or something? We could use GarageBand-”

“Shut up. Before they have confidence in your business, they have to have confidence in you. Go again. Growing up in Chicago…”

“We can’t all have a voice like yours. You sound like you should be making a commercial for car insurance.”

Ben frowns, and looks up from the script he has prepared to look quizzically at her.

“Thanks, I guess. Again. Please.”

Rey mentally curses herself, wondering where on earth the comparison came from.

“Growing up in Chicago was a privilege. The community around me helped to shape me into the woman I am today, and despite the difficulties we face, I believe that with a little direction, the community can be helped to help itself.” She shakes her head. “This sounds fake. And condescending. I don’t think-”

“It’s good, Rey. I think you did a good job with this. Your business plan is solid. Not only that, you already have the backing of the Foundation. That will go a long way to convincing them. But they’re business executives. Most of them don’t know what it’s like to live in a food desert. It doesn’t mean anything to them. They understand platitudes, and dollar signs.”

“Charity work isn’t supposed to be like this.”

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And yet, this is the way it is. Unfortunately, people like my mother tend to be able to get others to listen to them much faster than people like you.”

“You seem to listen to me just fine.”

“Believe me, Rey, it was an uphill struggle.”

She sits back in the chair, sharply, and crosses her arms over her chest. The tiny window that shows her movement freezes, showing her blurred and indignant. There is a moment of silence, during which Rey checks the speed of her Wi-fi, asking if Ben can hear her repeatedly.

“I can hear you. Run it once more.”

Just over three minutes later, she has reached the end of the page.

“Good. You just need to keep it to a tight three minutes.”

She rolls her eyes.

“As if they’re going to be checking their watches.” Chewing the inside of her cheek, Rey takes in Ben’s posture, shoulders obviously tense in a well made black shirt. “Is it really going to be that bad?”

He snorts, an alien sound coming from someone who rarely smiles.

“Armitage Hux is even worse than his name suggests. Their CEO has been known to get himself into the occasional trouble with the law. Fine, when it comes to his personal life, his current wife doesn’t seem to mind that he’s a dirty old man. Not so good when it comes out he’s been siphoning the top off the pension fund for the employees- the ones he underpays anyway-“

“How did you get your big break, then?”

He frowns, slightly, then leans back, stretching his arms.

“I majored in Statistical Science at Cornell, then my mother called around everybody she knew until I ran out of offices to intern at… then I started work with the charity, and got my day job at the think tank. Boring. Frustratingly easy.”

Rey grits her teeth.

“Sounds like the dream life. I can count on one hand the number of friends I have who got to go to college out of state. And Cornell,” she says, blowing out a puff of air. “You’re very lucky.”

He bristles at her tone.

“The problem with being very lucky, is that people start to think that’s all you’ve got going for you. Look at NiimaRide. You built this from scratch. You made it work, raised the money, even though you have no family. Even though you’re nobody-”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t, I mean, I meant-”

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment? You think it’s admirable I pulled myself up by the bootstraps? I thought you were supposed to be a fucking Democrat.”

“I am a Democrat. I knocked on doors for Ben Kenobi in 2016.” He’s indignant. “We do important work on the hill.”

“I’m glad you’re back there then. I’m surprised the country hasn’t ground to a halt without you.”

“Rey-”

“Text me if you need me.”

She slams down the lid and stretches out her fingers until they hurt. Pacing in front of the table, Rey snatches up her phone when it buzzes.

_15:22 Show them that tomorrow_  
_15:22 And if the self-righteousness doesn’t work, bluff_  
_15:23 I believe in you_

The suit she borrowed from Paige stares at her in silent judgment from the door of her closet. Rey glares at the disapproving crease in the wide pant leg and slams the bedroom door shut behind her, before opening her phone once more. Pulling up the search result for Ben Solo, she saves a picture of him standing outside a sports center in Queens, and sets it as his contact icon. He’s smiling. It reaches his eyes.

* * *

Rey’s stomach roils, and though she had been grateful for the coffee at the time, it has only worsened the cramped, sick feeling. She wishes she had some gum, a mint, something to take away the stale taste that comes with spending most of the night in light, restless sleep.

She wishes she had taken Rose up on the offer of concealer.

A pair of slender, tanned legs block her line of sight to the receptionist’s desk. The woman wielding them is conventionally gorgeous, with long dark hair that falls around her face in waves.

“Miss San Tekka? They’re ready for you.” She smiles, baring impossibly large white teeth. “My name is Katrina. May I take your coat?”

Rey gratefully hands over both the coat and her best handbag, a little grey suede thing Laurie had bought her for her birthday years back. Though she’s honestly concerned about being parted from her ID and her cell phone in a building like this, she would rather enter the meeting unencumbered. Anything to give her a veneer of gravitas.

Her companion turns her head this way and that, appraising her contoured jaw in the mirrors of the elevator, but Rey stares straight ahead, running her lines and clamping her lips shut to stop herself from forming the words out loud. The woman, Katrina, had pressed the button for the top floor of the building after ushering her gently inside. With every floor they pass, Rey feels she is more in danger of throwing up on this woman’s expensive-looking boots.

When they begin to slow, ready to stop, Rey closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The elevator doors open smoothly, almost silently, the mirrors giving way to an enormous room with mostly glass walls.

And a board room table, ringed with old men. She freezes.

From the corner of her eye, she sees a pasty young man in his thirties, dressed like he’s reporting for duty on some sort of gothic naval vessel, the black of his high collar emphasizing his unhealthy pallor.

He smiles, a strained, tense thing.

“Rey San Tekka. My pleasure. Armitage Hux, but you can call me Tag.”

His awkward chuckle only seems to recruit half of his face, and his tone tells her that not a single person has ever referred to this man as Tag in his life. She doesn’t bother to listen to a single name as he introduces her to the plethora of functionally identical old white men, her gaze instead falling on the cameras mounted well above their heads, blinking with a red light.

“Our CEO is far too busy to attend, of course, but we will be recording your presentation for him to view at his leisure. I’m here as something of a special favor to Solo.”

The expectant, wrinkled faces around her are arranged in what she’s sure they think are comforting, placid smiles. Rey thinks they look like waxworks, and suddenly it dawns on her. There is no reason for all of these bodies in the room, and certainly, nobody is ever going to watch this tape. At least, nobody with any real power.

Hux thinks she’s going to tank. He’s betting on it, and he’s made sure she has an audience. The reason for his tactics, she can’t be sure, but she’s willing to wager it has more to do with Ben than her company.

“Where can I set up?” She’s eager to be standing in front of her slides, the artfully rendered map of America’s food deserts, the financial breakdown, everything she has worked so hard to polish, and even harder to memorize.

“I think this should be a little more informal. Any friend of Leia Organa’s is a friend of First Foods, you can be sure.”

Rey can’t help but shift her weight so that Hux is forced into the periphery of her personal space, rather than the center.

“I’ve only met Leia once, but I have great respect for her. She wouldn’t have chosen me for the grant if she didn’t believe in the business.”

“Is that so?” Hux smirks. “I was under the impression they gave it to whomever they pity the most. Makes for the best publicity, I find.”

She clenches her jaw, taking in a deep breath.

“You’re mistaken, Mr. Hux. The Organa Foundation doesn’t need me to drum up good publicity for them. First Foods, on the other hand, could use my help. I prepared a comprehensive slide deck, and I think the best course would be if I took you through my projections. How does that sound?”

The muscles in Hux’s neck tense, making him appear even more skeletal.

“Splendid.”

Her first slide bears the logo she’s coming around to, and it’s designed to give them something colorful to look at while she calms her nerves.

“Grocery chains are failing Americans in need. From the enormous food waste to the scarcity of affordable fresh options, many communities are struggling to feed themselves. You, as one of the giants of this industry, have a responsibility to your customers. I’m giving you the opportunity to lead the pack.”

Her breath hitches when she sees Hux lean back in his seat, gaze fixed on the phone in his lap. Rey feels the hot flush of outrage as she watches the interest on their faces fade. Each of them switches off, their eyes cast down one by one like the last sputter of streetlights at dawn.

* * *

“What the fuck did you do?”

Ben’s voice is harsh, loud in her ears. She flinches, turns down the volume on her earphones. In place of an answer, Rey takes a bite from her croissant.

“I delivered it exactly like we practiced. It’s not my fault they didn’t want to listen. You need to be honest. Why does Hux hate you?”

He laughs.

“Hux doesn’t hate me. And he listened a lot more than he let on. They’re going to pilot your scheme in three stores in Chicago.”

She drops her croissant.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I am not, in fact, fucking joking,” says Ben, deadpan.

“Hux sat on his phone the whole time! He had a phalanx of old men sit and stare at me-”

“Did you finish the pitch?”

“Yes.”

“Was it tight?”

“Yes.”

“There’s your answer.”

She frowns, dusting off her lap before she makes for the door of the cafe, holding the mouthpiece of her earphones closer to her lips.

“He was trying to put me off. Hux just wanted to see if I had it in me to deliver the pitch. That’s… bullshit! My fucking public speaking abilities have nothing to do with the strength of the idea, or the cause that we’re actually trying to address-”

“You’re a CEO. They have to know you won’t be daunted, that you won’t cower when things get uncomfortable.”

“That is a very male-centric idea of how to run a company,” Rey says.

“Hux is a misogynist.”

She feels a pang of something like guilt, and makes a mental note to refer to him by name only.

“Don’t worry, Rey. You’ll probably never see him again. You did an amazing job today. I just wish I had been there to see his face. He managed to force out a few kind words about you.”

“Really? And what exactly did he say?”

Ben is silent.

“The review was mostly positive. Quit while you’re ahead, kid.”

Her stomach drops at his flippant use of the word. It seems like only yesterday he was insulting her, her apartment, her company.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Rey can’t manage to muster the warmth in her voice that she lost seconds ago. “Skype at one p.m. my time? I have some ideas I want to discuss, before the launch.”

“Speak to you then. Rey,” he says, and her heart catches in her mouth. “Well done.”

Rey hangs up the call, unable to thank him.

* * *

_Luke -_

_We got First Foods._

_Ben_

_Rey 18:00 I got the bid_  
_Paige 18:00 WTF REY OMG CONGRATS_  
_Paige 18:00 superstar_  
_Paige 18:01 srsly_  
_Rose 18:13 You are amazing and we love you_  
_Poe 18:14 Did Solo give you a present for being a clever girl_  
_Rey 18:15 I am going to set your couch on fire_  
_Poe 18:17 That makes no sense its also your couch_  
_Rey 18:17 Watch me_  
_Rey 18:18 I’ll buy a new one_  
_Rey 18:18 Just for me and you have to listen to Finn complain_  
_Rey 18:19 Or I could key your car?? Decisions decisions_

* * *

It’s three weeks later, in the lead up to their Thanksgiving launch, that Rey finally manages to drum up enough volunteers to bring her vision to life. Donning garish orange t-shirts, her friends pile into the back of two cars, bound for the closest First Foods to their apartment. They are forced to wait outside, stamping their feet and rubbing their arms to ward off the cold, while the manager opens the store.

Rose flits between the volunteers, passing out bundles of leaflets, but when they get inside the store, Rey sees her take a moment to straighten out her pile and grin at Paige. Her eyes start to sting.

“What is it I’m supposed to say? Paper or plastic?”

Ben’s voice is low in her ear, and she jumps, panicked. When she smacks at his arm, he laughs. He’s towing a tiny suitcase.

“Here you go,” says Rose, handing him what looks like an extra-large version of their t-shirts. “You can change in the manager’s office, and she said she would lock it up to keep your bag safe.”

Mouth agape, Rey is silent for a moment before she regains her composure.

“What are you doing here? How did you know he was coming?”

“It was my idea,” Rose replies with a small, smug smile. “You’re on aisle three, Ben, in between me and Rey. You don’t have much time before the reporters get here.”

“Reporters?”

“You need the publicity, Rey. We need to get your face out there.” Ben’s voice is measured, calm. “It’s a lot cheaper, and a lot more effective, than targeted ads.”

“My grandma doesn’t use Twitter, but she still clips coupons from the Sunday paper.” Rose’s voice is knowing, smug. “They’ll probably want pictures of both of you-”

“I have a customer.”

Rey looks pleadingly at the young woman pushing a stroller through the checkout, who smiles.

“Do you need a hand packing your bag today, ma’am?”

The woman tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear, and retrieves a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. Rey glances at the checkout screen, which reads $19.89.

“Are you collecting for charity, or something?”

Rey grabs a bag then starts to carefully stack the food.

“No. Actually, we’re giving something away. Information about a new community scheme that’s starting in conjunction with First Foods. I’ll put one of these,” she says, holding up a leaflet. “In with your groceries. You can read about us, see if it’s something you’re interested in.”

Rey moves around the stroller, and hangs the bag on one of the handles. She crouches, and gives a small wave to the toddler sitting quietly, playing with a soft toy.

“Hi. My name is Rey. What’s your name?”

The child’s mother smiles, and replies, “Alex. Say hello, Alex.”

Rey receives something of a mumble in return, and the toddler pulls a knitted white blanket up to hide their face. She feels the weight of eyes on her back, and stands, embarrassed.

“Have a good day, ma’am.”

The first hour is slow, with only a trickle of customers on a Saturday morning. When the reporters arrive, Ben abandons his post to go and deliver a statement about their initiative, and sing the praises of his good friend, the COO of First Foods, but before long they’re calling Rey outside for a photograph.

“Why don’t they want to talk to me?” She’s irate, especially when the photographer pushes her and Ben together, even going so far as to place his arm awkwardly around her shoulder.

“They got their soundbite. That’s all they care about. Jesus, Rey, smile.”

She snorts. He has barely rearranged his facial expression: he seems to think that a barely perceptible widening of his mouth constitutes a winning smile. When he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, she looks up at him, covering her confusion with a glare.

“Smile,” he says again, through gritted teeth.

She does.

It’s nearing the end of their day when Rey hears the first beep of the checkout, signaling a new customer. Counting out the last of their leaflets, she doesn’t raise her head to ask, “Would you like some help with your packing?”

“I should say so.”

Rey looks up, a bright smile on her face, and rushes forward to give Laurie a hug.

“How did you get all the way out here?”

“A kind young man brought me here in a big vehicle from the sidewalk outside my house. I think you kids call it a bus.”

She sticks out her tongue, shaking out a bag for his food.

“How did you know to come? I didn’t tell you because-”

“-you think I’m an invalid. I know. That young man called me last week.”

When Laurie raises a hand to Ben, the taller man nods, waving back.

“He spoke very highly of your work ethic.”

Rey smiles wryly.

“He should. I’m terribly sleep deprived. And if this goes well, it only benefits him-”

“He thinks you’re a great girl. You should stop pretending to be so prickly.”

“So do many people,” Rey insists. “Keep your voice down.”

To the cashier, she says, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Pulling out her phone, she opens the Uber app and requests an immediate pickup to take Laurie home. With his bags safely on the sidewalk, she hugs him again.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening. We’re going to change a lot of people’s lives with this.”

“I can believe it,” he says. “You’ve got good people behind you.”

Laurie casts his eyes over the parking lot, where almost every car has a NiimaRide leaflet under its windscreen wiper. On cue, Finn and Poe dart out from the front doors of the store, jogging up and down the aisles and checking for new cars.

“They’ve been doing that every twenty minutes, all day.”

He smiles.

“Good people.”

* * *

_@FirstFoodsIL your products are overpriced and underwhelming. no amount of bullshit coupons changes that #walmartforever_

_@NiimaRide the old woman who lives in my building is harassing me to go grocery shopping for her thanks a lot_

_@NiimaRide #FirstFoods are a joke and they’re ripping us off. some charity._

_@SenOrgana You should be focusing on food stamps and food banks, not cozying up to big businesses like #FirstFoods_

_@FirstFoodsIL I took two buses to get to your store and you were out of stock of half the discounted items and your staff wouldn’t accept my coupons_

_@ReyST you should give that money back to @SenOrgana so she can pay for some decent ads #Kenobi2020_

_@ReyST how much money are you making from this deal_

_I bet @ReyST doesn’t write her own code she looks like a dumb bitch_

_@SenOrgana didn’t know the #AlderaanFoundation only cared about affirmative action_

_14:22 Call me when you get a chance x Mom_

* * *

The girl behind the drive-through window looks unimpressed when Rey snorts at her hair-twirling, eyelash-batting, misguided attempts to flirt with Ben.

“Two black coffees, no sugar.”

He passes the cash through the window and rolls it up promptly, doing his best to stop the rain spattering on the interior of the rental car.

“I called C and asked him to extend my booking at the hotel,” he says, taking a small sip of his coffee before jerking back, grimacing. “He said no.”

Rey doesn’t respond.

“I’m not going back to D.C. I’m going to get you another contract.”

She sighs, and says, “First Foods isn’t going to just roll over and let us launch somewhere else. If they wanted to tank us, they got what they came for.”

He pulls his phone from its holder in the car and hands it over, showing his Twitter feed.

“Hux just announced their delivery service. I don’t think they’re going to want to make too much noise, so odds are they won’t put up a fight.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

Ben shoves his paper cup into a holder, starting the engine and blasting hot air onto the windscreen.

“I have friends I can call. Failing that, I can always check into another hotel-”

“Is the Foundation going to foot the bill?”

“No.” His mouth is a flat, dejected slash in a tired face. “But I can’t go back to D.C. with this media shit storm brewing-”

“Your mother isn’t happy.” It’s not a question.

“She doesn’t think we’ll be ready to launch in time, and she’s concerned that you’re too much of a target.”

“I don’t care what they print. I’m not ashamed of what I’m trying to do. My parents aren’t a secret. They were nobody- they never hurt anyone but themselves.”

“… I don’t think that’s accurate.”

Rey bristles.

“It’s rude to presume things about people you barely know.”

“That’s definitely not accurate.” He glances at her, taking in her crossed arms and furrowed brow. “I know you well enough.”

“Well enough to think you know more about my issues than I do?”

“I know you well enough to see that you want to make something more of yourself than working in a repair shop and living like something from a sitcom-”

“You should hear yourself. Do you have any idea what sort of privileged life you’ve led? I’m sorry that I had to earn a living. I realize that’s very uncouth of me- taking people’s junk and trying to coax it back to life, because maybe that’s all they can afford.”

She can see the muscle jumping in his jaw, but she can’t stop talking, and her face feels hot, her hands tingling.

“You think the biggest compliment you can give me is that I deserve better than this? How fucking dare you. You’re a sanctimonious, condescending bastard, and I pity you for being so short-sighted.”

He pulls up in front of the apartment, and Rey scrabbles for the door handle, so desperate to escape that she tries to climb out before she has even removed her seat belt.

“Fuck you,” she says after a long moment spent untangling herself, and slams the door.

When she makes it inside, she refuses to look back, but hears him rev the engine of the rental furiously as he tears away, down the street. She stomps up the stairs, too enraged to wait for the elevator, and barely takes a breath until she’s safely behind the door of her bedroom.

With her face buried in a pillow, and her body limp on the mattress, she doesn’t bother to react when she hears the buzz of the intercom, and Finn’s voice greeting their visitor. It’s only when there’s a knock at her door, does she tense.

“Rey? Uh, Ben Solo is here to see you.” There is a moment of frantic whispering, and she can just make out the words seat belt before Finn gently opens the door. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Ben’s footsteps are slow, tentative. Although he doesn’t speak, there is something about his face, eyes wide and expression thoughtful, that makes her think he hadn’t expected her bedroom to look this way. Perhaps in place of a bedside lamp he imagined the lonely blue glow of a monitor, and instead of pictures of her family and friends, a whiteboard full of scribbles, or a work bench littered with spare electronics.

They live in a box under her bed, actually.

Her mattress sinks under his weight as he perches on the end, and she turns her head a fraction so she can at least see his profile, staring out of the window to the streetlights below.

“My dad used to tell me stories of what it was like growing up hungry. When his mom would water down a can of soup to make sure they both had dinner,” says Ben, voice soft, words measured. “He hates wealth even more than he wants it. That’s why he could never stay with my mother. The house I grew up in was like a museum.”

“Your dad sounds like my kind of guy.”

He chuckles, a short, surprised sound.

“I think he’d like you. Especially if I told him how much of a pain in the ass you are.”

Rey sits up, and throws her pillow back against the headboard. He looks over his shoulder at the sound.

“Don’t go to a hotel.”

Ben’s cheeks are uncharacteristically pink, and his mouth is open in an uncertain half-syllable.

“I don’t want you to be out of pocket, and we can’t afford to pay you with the grant money-”

“I’m not expecting to be paid,” he says. “I’m not doing it for the money, like I said, my day job is… fine.”

She stands, gesturing to him to follow, then digs in her closet for a moment.

“Clean sheets. You can take my bed, and-”

“It’s really no trouble to get a hotel.”

Glaring up at him, she shoves the bundle towards him, then turns to collect pajamas from the drawers.

“Don’t be rude. We don’t have time for you to argue.”

“It would save just as much time if you stopped arguing,” says Ben.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch, and after I’ve brushed my teeth, I’m locking the door. You have until then to decide.”

Five minutes later, she’s changed, teeth brushed, and bumps into Ben as she exits the bathroom. He’s holding an electric toothbrush in one hand, charger in the other.

“Can I plug this in somewhere?”

She grins.

* * *

They have no curtains or blinds in the living room, and she’s groggy despite the weak sunlight streaming through the window. Rey can hear bustling coming from the kitchen, and grabs her phone from the floor.

_04:02 we can hear solo snoring through the wall_  
_04:03 so either it’s just that loud or the walls are actually that thin_  
_04:03 I need an answer Rey_  
_04:03 Rey_

There’s a chill in the apartment, and once she untangles herself from the blankets she pulls on a pair of socks, crossing the room to the kitchen door and knocks.

Poe reaches a hand around the door and pulls it open, smirking at Rey. His other hand is busy holding out a wooden spoon, and a fully dressed Ben Solo is tentatively bending down to taste the tomato sauce.

“Huevos rancheros,” Poe says by way of explanation.

Ben grimaces, pursing his lips and huffing out to try and cool down his mouth.

“It’s good.”

Rey’s mouth crumples, as she tries to hold in a laugh.

“Hot?”

Poe turns to her, and says, “Yes. Unbearably so.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Did you know Ben has never been climbing, Rey?” Poe continues, stirring the pot. “Rey has such an excellent head for heights.”

“It never came up. I suppose he never thought it was relevant.”

“Maybe Rey could take you along some time. I think you’d have a talent for it. You need upper body strength of course, but I don’t think that would be much of an issue-”

Ben visibly tenses when Poe reaches out and squeezes his upper arm.

“Ben.” He looks up, face fearful, and nods emphatically when she asks, “Do you need somewhere to set up your laptop?”

He’s out of the room so fast, Poe doesn’t even have the time to call out to him before Rey shoots him a warning look.

“Stop tormenting him.”

“You looked adorable splayed out on the couch this morning, drooling. You should be thankful for the distraction.”

When she follows, Rey looks around, wondering where Ben could have gotten to in such a small apartment.

“Listen,” he says at her ear, and she jumps. “You have to believe me, I’m not encouraging him.”

“Oh. I know. Poe is just… friendly.”

He breathes a sigh of relief.

“I couldn’t let you think I was, you know, interested in Poe.”

Rey’s heart stutters in anticipation.

“If your friend Finn saw… I know your friends don’t like me. I would hate for him to think I wanted to steal his boyfriend.”

“No,” she says, slowly. “Finn wouldn’t think anything like that.”

“Do you have the notes we took on Kanji Co-op?”

Just like that, the subject is closed. She can’t help but feel disappointed.

“Yes. I just need fifteen minutes. Have some eggs. Tell Poe to piss off.”

“Only _after_ I get the eggs.”

* * *

The following Monday, Ben and Rey are waiting together in the lobby of a distribution warehouse, the only premises the company holds in Illinois that isn’t a literal grocery store.

“What do we do if they ask about your mother’s support,” Rey asks, voice low.

“We tell them that as the recipient of the grant she trusted you completely to use the money as you best saw fit, and part of that was this launch. That she’s going to try and make it on the day.”

She raises a brow.

“Is she?”

“Her assistant threatened that if I’m not back in D.C. by Thanksgiving she’s going to disown me. It’s not improbable she would do that in person.”

A short, lean man in a dark blue polo shirt enters the lobby from the side door, and makes a beeline for them.

“Mr Solo. And your associate, Miss Niima, it’s good to meet you.”

“Rey San Tekka,” she corrects, and reaches out to shake his hand.

They touch hands, briefly, but his gaze is fixed on Ben, who calmly removes a piece of lint from the sleeve of his expensive suit jacket before taking the man’s hand in two of his own.

“Our pleasure,” he says with a smile as warm as Rey has ever seen from him.

They’re lead to the man’s office, which bears his name and title: T. Leech, Regional Manager.

“So, what do you have to show me today?”

Rey pulls out a copy of her business plan, as well as a new, glossy brochure she plans to hand out to anyone who will let her through the door. Leech takes it carefully in his hands, flicking through the choice shots of Chicagoans bearing discount groceries. The final page shows Rey and Poe unloading the trunk of a beat-up car, with a short blurb on how they started out.

She notices for the first time how Ben is sitting: legs spread, posture relaxed. Even sitting on the couch, sleeves rolled up, she has never seen him look so nonchalant.

“We are offering companies, such as yourself, the opportunity to become our partner in this initiative.” Rey tries to keep a genial smile fixed on her face, but she’s floored by Ben Solo’s finely tuned charisma.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of what we’re trying to do. NiimaRide has been burned once. That’s why we came to you. You have an excellent reputation.”

“If I can interject, Mr. Leech,” says Rey, lifting her business plan from the desk and opening it to a tabbed page. “The burden on your business would be minimal, and we project that you could see some excellent returns if you offer reasonable discounts to the people who need it most-”

Leech holds up a hand.

“I think there has been a misunderstanding.”

Ben leans forward.

“We have an entire pitch prepared for you, Mr. Leech, if you give us the opportunity.”

The man shakes his head.

“First Foods now have a delivery service, that I think leaves you completely redundant. We don’t want to work with you. We want to buy the IP for your app, and the initiative that goes with it, Miss Niima.”

San Tekka, she thinks.

“We want to compete with First Foods, and we think your app will give us an edge.”

Ben’s expression is unreadable, and he appears calm save the line of tension that now extends from his neck to his calf.

“This business isn’t for sale. Neither is Ms. San Tekka.”

“Good,” replies Leech. "Frankly, you embarrassed yourself with the First Foods incident. Hux really did a number on you.”

“I think we’re finished here,” says Ben, who stands. “Thank you for inviting us all the way out here.”

Leech laughs.

“You’re welcome. The drive back to the city is really something.”

It’s thirty minutes before Rey can open her mouth. Ben looks furious, knuckles white on the wheel once more, and she knows if she speaks to him before she is calm, they will only whip each other up into a frenzy of indignation.

“We need to find a new partner. Rose and Finn have already started planning for the launch. We have a Facebook event-”

“Oh, well, I’m sure if we had told him there was a Facebook event, he would have been on board,” Ben interrupts with a scoff.

“Don’t snipe at me. I’m trying to problem-solve.”

Ben is silent for a moment, and she sees him squeeze his eyes shut briefly.

“My therapist told me to try deep breathing in situations like this.”

“How long have you been seeing a therapist?”

“Not since I was in high school. It was my mother’s way of trying to manage me. I smashed one too many installations in her office. 1998 was a rough year. I broke my hand when she told me she was sending me to boarding school.”

“I used to break things when I was little,” says Rey, sliding back against the car seat so that she’s sitting lower, more relaxed. “I would take the back off my sister’s Walkman and snip the wiring.”

“Sister?”

“There were four of us, total. I only lived with one of them, for a couple of years. I’m the youngest by a long shot. The only foster kid.”

“My therapist also told me being an only child makes it more difficult to relate to people my own age. That I was too used to being around adults.”

“I don’t think-”

His phone starts to ring over the car speaker, and Ben immediately presses a button on the wheel to answer the call.

The word Mitaka displays on the dashboard.

“Phil?” His voice is cold.

“Hi, Mr. Solo.”

“I’m driving, Phil, say what you have to say.”

Rey opens the brochure on her lap, pretending to skim the pages for the hundredth time.

“Senator Organa put in a call, and, uh, you’re needed back here first thing on Wednesday. I’ve been told to book your flights, so I was wondering-”

“You can tell anybody who asks that I’m not coming back to work for the foreseeable future. Including my mother.”

“But we have to appear in front of the dairy council on Friday.”

“Phil? Listen to me. If anybody asks, I’ll be back in December. And if they keep asking you to call me, tell them I’ll come back on my own terms, or I won’t come back at all.”

“But Mr. Solo-”

“Goodbye, Phil.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, then his phone rings again. Over the next thirty minutes, he declines at least five calls, some with familiar names. Finally, his mother’s name appears on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ben? It’s me,” says a man’s voice.

He’s silent, and she hears his breath hitch before he hangs up, and tosses his phone onto her lap.

“Turn that off, would you?”

She does as she’s asked and says nothing, and places it back in its holder, screen black and silent. For the rest of the drive, his expression is just as blank, just as unreadable.

* * *

Twenty minutes after they’ve arrived in Paige’s kitchen, Rey’s carefully laminated recipe sheets are already smeared with sauce, buried under piles of vegetable peels, and generally ignored.

Instead, Poe is circling his helpers like the scuttling, wall-following robot Rey keeps in a box under her desk. When he criticizes Finn’s chopping technique, the only change is faster, more frantic knife sounds. Even Ben has a station over by the hob: beside him, Rose slices sweet potato as precisely as she can manage, shoulders tense.

When he catches her looking their way, Ben smiles and lifts a carrot in greeting.

“I need to talk to you,” says Poe at her ear. Rey follows him to the corner of the kitchen, and after snapping at Finn to keep chopping, he presses his hands together, and holds them at his mouth.

“This is enough food for a hundred people, Rey.”

“What, do you think it’s not enough?”

He shakes his head.

“I know you believe your boy is going to come through for you-”

“He’s not my boy.”

“And why do you think that is, huh? You two are the most awkward people I’ve met in my life, acting like you hate each other, so dramatic.”

Rey scoffs.

“I know at least two people who were more awkward than me,” she says.

“Wrong,” says Finn, without looking up from his chopping board. “That was all me. Poe was over here being a functioning human being and I couldn’t even remember my name when he asked.”

She goes to fold her arms, but Poe stops her with a quick hand. Rey had forgotten about the tiny knife she was using to slice cherry tomatoes.

“What I wanted to say was, you’re supposed to launch in two days. We have no partners, no industry backing. Even Leia Organa doesn’t want to hear about us. I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”  
Poe, for once, looks serious.

“Something will turn up. Someone is going to come through for us. We just have to hold out hope a little longer.”

She smiles, but Poe just looks at her with pity.

“I don’t know about hope. I know a little something about faith, though,” he says. “I believe in you, Rey. Everybody in this room does. It’s them we don’t believe. These people make enough money, and they ignore the problems. They get to pretend everybody has that luxury.”

“Ben has been working flat out for weeks trying to find someone who’ll work with us. I can’t turn around now and tell him it’s all over.”

Finn stills.

“What about you? You’ve been working on this for years. Fooled once, and now you want to open up a room full of food and wait for them to make a fool out of you again.”

She clenches her teeth.

“It’s not foolish to want to help people.”

“Nah. But most people don’t see it that way. They look at you and they see someone they can take advantage of-”

“This is charity! They’re supposed to take advantage of it!”

Rey holds up a hand to silence Finn, but he takes it in his own and gives her a sad smile.

“Everybody needs somewhere to go on Thanksgiving. If nobody shows, Poe’ll drive round the block and see if we can find anybody who needs some food and company, how does that sound?”

“Now we just have to come up with a plan about Solo,” says Poe.

Finn frowns, pulling Rey into a hug.

“Who cares about Solo?”

“She does,” Poe says with a smirk. “And I think Solo cares very much about what you’re doing right now.”

Rey goes to turn her head, but Finn holds her tighter and she laughs.

“You tried being a bitch-”

“He started it!”

“You tried dressing up, and giving him compliments,” says Finn.

“You showed him your inner sanctum, where he will be sleeping again tonight-”

“Yes, and none of those things have made him warm to me in the slightest. He’s barely more tolerable now than when he first arrived.”

“I disagree,” Poe says, taking a contemplative bite of raw carrot. “He’s discernibly less snooty, a lot more invested in the cause, and has, on one notable occasion, told me I was being inappropriate. I think that’s growth.”

Rey’s voice is low, in a half-whisper. “His office called last night. Then, his father.”

Poe’s voice is mocking, and he cups a hand around his mouth to shield it from view.

“And what did they want?”

“Someone called Phil-”

“Phil Mitaka,” interjects Finn. “What? LinkedIn.”

“Phil called and said they needed him back in D.C. after his mother put in a call. Ben told them to piss off. Then his father called.”

Poe makes a motion for her to elaborate.

“He just said, bye. I haven’t seen him look at his phone since. He made me switch it off.”

“So he doesn’t want anybody hauling him back home before he’s had a chance to tell you how he feels,” says Finn.

“Or he’s embarrassed at his failure, and doesn’t want to face them.”

“Or, he wants to see this out to the end, since he put his name to it,” Rey says.

“I’m telling you, Rey. You can’t keep acting, in the hopes it’ll pique his interest. You have to show him.”

She bites into her cheek, pulling the flesh in, and she looks even more concerned.

“What should I do?”

“Be tactile. Give him a hug goodnight, or, God forbid,” says Poe, making an exaggerated sign of the cross. “Maybe even a kiss.”

“He doesn’t seem like the hugging type.”

“Only one way to find out.”

* * *

She has been perched at the opposite end of the couch for an hour now, barely paying attention to a documentary on Netflix about a glass factory in Ohio. Rey is acutely aware of the position of her legs, awkwardly tucked underneath her body, but is loath to move too much in case Ben takes it as his cue to go to bed.

He is, of course, sitting right where her pillow will be when they eventually switch off the television.

It would also have been in her best interest to use the bathroom before she sat down: she can barely focus on anything but the pressure on her bladder.

When the credits roll, Ben reaches for his glass on the floor, and she jumps up, full of nervous energy. As he surfaces, he frowns, face quizzical.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, of course. Can I put that in the kitchen for you?”

“No, thanks, I’m going to take a glass of water to bed,” he says, frowning at the tension in her posture.

“Oh, I could fill it for you.”

“Are you being passive-aggressive?”

Rey is taken aback.

“If this is about the dishes I left in the sink,” he says gruffly. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I was going to clean them, but it didn’t make sense to do it before dinner-”

“No, I didn’t even notice.”

“Ok. I can get my own water. Thanks.”

His thanks doesn’t sound particularly heartfelt, seeing as his voice is twinged with annoyance.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping out today, and for everything you’ve done for us. Me. And even if we don’t find a collaborator by the launch-”

“We still have tomorrow. Some offices might close early because it’s the day before Thanksgiving, but all we need is the nod.”

He stands, and goes to turn towards the kitchen. Rey rushes forward, arms outstretched, and catches him at a forty-five-degree angle, knocking his glass out of his hand.

It rolls, harmlessly, on the rug.

“Um, Rey?”

She is frozen, mortified.

“The soda has spilled on the floor.”

“I know,” she says, voice strained.

It is then she realizes that he is far too tall for her to attempt a kiss on the cheek in any way that would seem casual. Or even within the bounds of natural human behavior. Perhaps she could ask him to stoop?

His hands are awkwardly raised, and she is still holding him around the middle, unsure of how to proceed. When he bends, just a little, to lower his arms around her, she tenses even more, and he stops, too.

“This company means a lot to me. It has meant a lot that you want to see it succeed.”

“You deserve to succeed. You did everything right.”

His voice is soft.

Again, he begins to lower his arms. Though it seems like she has been trapped in this half embrace for a lifetime, in reality, it has only been a few seconds. Her mind goes blank, desperate to escape to safety. She reaches for his hand as it moves past her face, and presses a kiss into his palm.

Her eyes are wide, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Goodnight,” she manages, and untangles herself. She turns to race into the bathroom, but not before stepping in the spilled soda, which seeps through her sock.

After a moment’s pause, she bends to lift the glass from the floor and hands it to Ben without looking up.

“Thanks,” he says.

She can hear the laugh he’s holding back, and she trudges off into the hallway, one damp sock pressing cold against her skin.

* * *

Straining on top of a rickety aluminum ladder, Rey has one hand full of nails, the other holding an enormous, orange NiimaRide sign.

“I think you need to lift it a little higher,” calls Paige.

When Rey hangs her head, she hears Rose pipe up.

“You’ve been out here for fifteen minutes. She’s an engineer. Rey,” she shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Up three inches and you’re good.”

“I can hear you just fine,” she replies at normal volume.

“Why isn’t Solo doing this? He has the height advantage.”

Rey shrugs in Paige’s direction, wobbling slightly, and she looks down to see Finn push himself off the wall he’s been leaning against to steady her.

“He isn’t here.”

Pulling out his phone to check the time, Finn makes a hissing noise.

“We only have another hour before we have to give the keys back to the janitor,” he says.

When Rey is safely on terra firma, she pulls out her own phone and clicks on the most recent call.

“Ben, where the fuck are you?”

“Hello Rey,” he says woodenly. “You’re on speaker in the car. I’m on my way.”

“I don’t need this shit today, ok? Either you’re coming, or you’re not, but if you’re going to ditch me - us - at the last minute, I need to know.”

“I’m ten minutes away.”

“If you’re any later, don’t fucking bother coming.”

She hangs up, without waiting even for a goodbye. Looking him in the eye has been difficult since the soda debacle, let alone having a civil conversation. Inside, she helps Tallie sprinkle fake orange leaves on the tables, and passes Poe who is laying down utensils and condiments faster than she thought possible. Finn brings up his rear with a bucket of tea light candles.

When Ben arrives, empty-handed, she drops her packet of decorations and strides towards him, sweaty, red-faced, and fuming.

“Where are the squashes? We need the squashes, Ben!”

He puts a hand out to catch her shoulder, and leans closer to her ear.

“Come with me. Close your eyes.”

Ben drops her shoulder, and hesitates for a moment before he grabs her wrist, but Rey pulls it from his grip.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit. Honestly, I haven’t eaten in fourteen hours, and I don’t remember the last time I drank water - or went to the toilet, for that matter.” She pauses, thoughtful. “That’s not good.”

Grabbing for her hand again, his face is stony.

“Stop being such a fucking pain in the ass, and recognize when someone is trying to do something nice for you.”

Rey takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Tensing when she feels the brush of his skin against her hand, she worries that her own skin is clammy. He’s taking her outside, that much is clear: she can feel the nip in the air as they leave the building, making their way into the parking lot.

“Whatever the fuck you’re doing, it’s not funny. Please don’t tell me you’re enough of a bastard to play some horrible prank on me, today of all days.”

He chuckles, nervously.

“Rey San Tekka, meet Maz Kanata. She’s interested in becoming our partner.”

When she opens her eyes, she sees an elderly black woman, decked out in what looks like hiking clothes, and a headscarf that’s a riot of color, obscuring natural hair tinged white with age.

“Oh, fuck.”

She’s standing at the door of a tiny car, covered in decals that look suspiciously like the NiimaRide artwork. It’s largely orange, to Rey’s dismay.

“What… is that?”

“It’s for promo,” says Ben. “But that’s not important.”

“Is that a bullhorn on top?”

“Rey. Ms. Kanata wanted to meet with you before she made her final decision.”

She flushes, almost falling over herself to shake the tiny woman’s hand.

“Ms. Kanata, it’s my privilege to meet you. I lived on your bakery produce during exam season in high school.”

“I’m glad to have kept you alive, child. Looks like there’s not much meat on you to begin with.”

Rey smiles, though her heart is pounding.

“I think the two of us should speak alone, don’t you Ms. San Tekka?”

“Of course! Um, there’s a janitor’s office in the basement, if you don’t mind the stairs-”

“The day I can’t make it down a staircase is a long way off. Lead the way.”

Ben moves to open the door of the hall for her, but Maz stops him with a raised hand and a skeptical look.

“I don’t know who raised you with those manners, boy, but it certainly wasn’t your father.”

He pulls back, ears red.

“My mother-”

“Was no better when she was a girl. Good thing there were fewer cameras around in those days,” says Maz with a grin.

Minutes later, Rey is clearing boxes of rat poison from the only decent chair in the room, and Maz sits happily, feet almost brushing the floor.

“How long has Ben Solo been in love with you, Ms. San Tekka?”

Rey’s hand stills on the desk, where she’s moving a bundle of gas bills to give her a place to sit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about- and please, call me Rey. Just Rey.”

“You don’t have to convince me you deserve my partnership. I like your ideas, and I like your work ethic. Solo told me all about the work you’ve done. I just wanted to give you a chance to tell me in your own words. You are your own woman, after all. I think that’s what he likes about you.”

“If you want to hear about my business plan-”

“No. I want to hear about you. In your voice. Ben Solo isn’t a reliable character witness. Especially not when he’s in love.”

She closes her eyes, then leans forward to put her head in her hands.

“I am a nobody, from nowhere. I’ve never met another person in this city who grew up where I did. It gets very lonely, feeling like an outsider. Or having a family who loves you, because they chose you.” Her voice breaks. “Not because you were born with their love already guaranteed. I suffered, because the people who gave birth to me, who loved me because I was their blood, couldn’t save themselves, let alone me.”

It's like a confession. As if Maz could absolve her of all the resentment she has for the world and the people she loves. The older woman's face is soft.

“Everyone deserves to have someone to rely on. And I can make this city into an entire community of people to rely on, if they’ll let me.”

She pauses, and sits up, back straight.

“That’s what NiimaRide is.”

Maz presses her hands together in a mockery of applause, and Rey smiles.

“Child, if you can be as candid with Ben Solo as you were with me, I don’t think you’ll have any problems. You’re a woman with a good brain. You shouldn’t be afraid to use your mouth.”

“I don’t care about him half as much as I care about this business.”

She raises a brow, disbelieving.

“Good,” says Maz. “That’s good for my bottom line, and good for Ben Solo. Boy needs to work for something in his life.”

* * *

“It’s fine, honestly.”

Tallie’s face is pinched, worried.

“I just want you to look good-”

“The only way I’ll look good is if I don’t fuck up my speech. Thank you, really, for doing this, but I have to practice.”

“You can practice while the flat iron heats up!”

Rey shakes her head.

“It looks great. I love it,” she says, doing her best to sound sincere. The bathroom mirror doesn’t look like it has been cleaned in five years, but she can still plainly see the odd kinks in her hair where Tallie has failed to curl it properly.

Crossing the room, she pulls out a pack of flashcards with her notes written in a cramped, rushed hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she begins, rushing through the words under her breath. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Pause for applause.”

She looks imploringly at Tallie.

“Please, go find Paige for me. Make sure everything is ok up there?”

The other girl scrambles to pick up the mess she has made around the sink: a mascara wand lies uncapped next to a hairbrush that is glistening, sticky with hairspray.

“They need you on stage in ten. Don’t forget.”

Rey presses a hand to her nauseous stomach.

“As if I could.”

She sneaks a peek at her cards, then looks to the ceiling, reciting her speech as fast as she can. Halfway through the third card, there is a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she says, shoving the cards behind the sink and surrendering against the wall.

“It’s me.” Ben blocks the doorway, peering around the bathroom in case Rey isn’t alone. “I have to leave.”

Her stomach drops, hot dread crawling up her neck.

“You’re supposed to be on stage in five minutes!”

Gesturing to his suit that Finn had begrudgingly, painstakingly pressed with their iron and a damp pillowcase, she lets out a sound of frustration.

“It was supposed to be a surprise-”

“I have had enough with your surprises. Enough. What the fuck is going on?”

Ben looks sheepish, and glances at his watch.

“My family is here.”

Rey closes her eyes. Counts to three. Restrains herself from grabbing at his lapel and shaking sense into him.

“If they’re here, why do they have to leave?”

“Well-”

“I’m not finished. And what do you mean by your family?”

Ben takes another glance at his phone, which seems to be vibrating.

“My parents and my uncle Luke. Their driver can’t find the entrance to the parking lot. I have to go and flag them down.”

Shaking her head, she pats him on the arm as she passes.

“Do what you need to do, Ben Solo. I guess I’ll introduce myself.”

She looks back over her shoulder, and sees him make a fist, then stretch his fingers repeatedly.

“Good luck. Your speech is going to knock them dead.”

His voice is measured.

“No,” says Rey with a laugh. “My cooking is going to do that for me.”

Without looking back again, Rey smooths out her good black dress and makes her way out to the main hall. The turn out is good, much better than she had expected: about three quarters of the seats are full. Although it has been transformed thanks to their efforts, she can’t ignore the ache of nostalgia as she surveys the basketball hoop, the games closet that never quite shut right, the little window through to the kitchen where they used to decorate cookies.

She makes a beeline for where Laurie and some of his old friends sit, close to the area they’ve chosen as the stage.

“What do you think,” she asks, close to his ear. “Better or worse than Thanksgiving 2014?”

Laurie turns in his chair, looking delighted, and puts his hand over hers where it rests on his shoulder.

“Gentlemen, look at my daughter. She’s a powerhouse!”

Rey smiles at the familiar faces, people she has seen wander in and out of Laurie’s house for years, looking for dinner, a cup of sugar, or the chance to watch the game on his television.

“Hi, everybody. Thanks for being here.”

There are fewer of them than she would have liked to see. Laurie goes to a lot of funerals, these days. She kisses him on the cheek, and whispers that she has to be on stage in a few minutes. That she’s scared to death.

He presses a kiss to her head, just like he used to.

“I love you. Now get up there.”

She has her marching orders. With a quick nod to Finn, she goes to stand by the side of the stage.

“Where is Solo? He’s supposed to introduce you-”

“I want you to do it,” she says, breathless.

He balks, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do. You know better than anyone else. Please, do this for me.”

Finn looks down at the microphone in his hand, then throws his arms around her.

“Break a leg,” they say at the same time, and Finn grins before he runs up the tiny set of steps, taking centre stage.

“Hi, everybody. Please, take your seats. It’s time to get this ball rolling.”

Rey gives him a small thumbs-up, and she hears the table closest to her corner of the stage laugh softly.

“The woman of the hour is my oldest friend. She was the first family I ever had, and she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. Rey San Tekka would give you the food off her plate, if you asked for it, and you ate it quick - before she could change her mind.”

The crowd laughs, and she hears Poe hollering from the back wall, though she can’t see him in the crowd of her friends gathered there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here she is.”

Her heart begins to pound, blood rushing in her ears, when her foot hits the first step. She is, of course, wearing sensible enough shoes that it’s not too difficult to keep her balance despite the fear shutting down her senses. Scanning the crowd, she can’t see Ben, or any of his family.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she says in a shaky voice, before taking an enormous, shuddering breath. “I hope you’re hungry.”

That gets a laugh. Not as big as Finn’s, but still polite.

“I went into foster care when I was five years old. It took eleven years, and eight foster families, before I was adopted. Before I found my family with Finn, and with Laurie, my life was mostly ok. I don’t talk much about my parents, because I don’t remember much. But I do remember the hunger.”

She takes a beat.

“Now, I look around this city, and I see huge swathes of people who can’t afford to eat the way they want to, who work hard, but are being punished, because of where they come from. Maybe some people worked hard all their lives, and don’t have enough to show for it. Maybe some people can’t work at all. I don’t see why that means we deserve less.”

Rose smiles at her from the back of the room, holding hands with Paige.

“We’re going to level the playing field together.”

Poe hollers again, and that sets off a round of applause all throughout the room.

“You all know about my plans. I don’t want to keep you from your dinner. I just wanted to say a couple of words about the people who made it all possible.”

This part of the speech, she hasn’t planned.

“To Tallie and Paige. If your wedding is half as beautiful as you’ve made this place, there won’t be a dry eye in the house. Rose, you are my rubber duck, and I love you.” She grins. “Poe, you deserve a Michelin star- and before you say anything, I know only restaurants get the stars. You’ve told me enough times. Laurie, thank you for being my father. I owe you everything.”

Her breath hitches, but she steadies herself.

“Finn. You’re the best friend a girl could hope for. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Finally, I wanted to thank everyone at the Organa Foundation, for believing in me, and the people of this city. Your generosity is the reason we’re here. Ben Solo-”

She hears a high pitched sound of surprise, and Rose stumbles as Ben backs up into her at speed. Poe is grinning, something dangerous in his eyes. His arms are outstretched for a moment longer, tensed after he shoved Ben through the crowd.

“I told you to say that again, Solo.”

“Poe,” Paige begins, but he holds up a hand and she is immediately silenced.

“Shut the fuck up, Dameron,” says Ben, brushing down his suit jacket. Even dressed in a terrible volunteer’s t-shirt, stained with sauce, even though his head only comes up to Ben’s chin, Poe is the one in control of the situation.

“Tell her what the fuck you just said to me.”

Ben straightens, face pink.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, everybody-”

“We’re waiting for you, asshole.”

Something ripples across Ben’s face and he visibly swallows.

“I said that if you’re going to keep behaving like a creep, flirting with me, you don’t deserve Finn.”

Making a motion with his hand as if to hurry Ben along, Poe moves towards him at pace as if to shove him once more.

“What else?”

“I said there’s no way I’d be interested in you, because-”

“Because you hate me, right? You hate gay people?”

Ben shakes his head, and goes to turn for the door.

“I’m not fucking doing this, Dameron.”

“Are you admitting to being a homophobe in front of all these reporters?”

“I didn’t say anything about hating gay people- I don’t hate gay people-”

“Sure sounded like it,” Poe calls, making deliberate eye contact.

“I said _Rey._ You heard me. I said I would never be interested because… you know how I feel about Rey.”

Poe catches her eye, smirking, then takes a tiny, almost imperceptible, bow. Leia Organa, who Rey hadn’t noticed until that moment, puts her head in her hands.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Ben, if I could see you in the office a moment?”

Rey’s voice is high pitched, and she doesn’t even wait until they have finished applauding that she disappears from the stage, hurrying from the room. She throws herself into the janitor’s chair and closes her eyes. Her posture shifts from exasperated defeat into tension when she hears a knock at the door.

“I am so sorry,” says Ben. If nothing else, he seems genuinely apologetic. “We completely ruined the launch-”

“Why don’t you try saying all of this to my face?”

She stands, crossing the tiny room in a few steps, and wrenches open the door. He is deflated, looking somehow smaller than she is used to.

“I have completely embarrassed myself. And your company. I totally cheapened the event, I should just take my family and go.”

When he finally manages to meet her eyes, he is silent.

“Please say something.”

“What are you doing for dinner?”

Ben looks puzzled, pulling back.

“I’m eating here.”

Rey takes a step towards him, sliding a hand under the fabric of his lapel.

“Good,” she says, tipping her head towards him. “It’s a date.”

When their mouths meet, Ben puts his arms around her. This time, she does nothing but lean in closer.

* * *

“That was quite a show you three put on,” says Han Solo, gesturing to the stage with his beer bottle. He’s deeply tan from his weeks spent on the deck of his boat, hair whitened by age and the sun.

“I had hoped for it to go smoothly. But no amount of preparation can account for Poe Dameron.”

“He seems like a loose cannon,” says Leia under her breath. “I like him. Han, I’m going for a cigarette, are you coming?”

“Mom,” says Ben, pushing her probing hand back down into her purse when she starts to pull out a lighter. “Go around the back of the building. There are reporters.”

She laughs, a throaty sound, and leans in towards Rey.

“He doesn’t trust me. Believe me, I’ve been smoking in secret since before you were even thought of, kid. Not while I was pregnant, though,” Leia clarifies.

When she and Han are gone, Rey and Ben are left alone with Luke Skywalker, and her mind is utterly blank. The first thing that pops into her head, disappointingly, is bowing and scraping.

“I want to thank you again for your faith in me, Mr. Skywalker. It’s such a privilege to be affiliated with the Organa Foundation, and knowing your board chose me-”

Luke lets out a rueful laugh.

“Hate to break it to you, kid. I was the only one who wanted to take a chance on you.”

“What-”

“My sister doesn’t go in so much for diamonds in the rough. That’s what she thought Han was, originally. Didn’t end so well for her.”

“She got me, didn’t she?” grumbles Ben. “We’re the ones who have to listen to her screaming at him down the phone.”

“Exactly. I grew up somewhere like this. More rural, maybe. Not a lot of jobs, not a lot of money. I left it behind for a better life.” Luke sighs. “Sometimes I wish I had stayed behind and made a better life for myself right where I was.”

He catches the eye of Maz Kanata, standing across the room, and slowly raises a hand in greeting.

“See you later, kid. That woman has something that belongs to me.”

Luke shakes Ben’s hand briefly before he leaves them, and when they are alone, Ben runs a finger down the length of his bare arm.

“What do we do know?”

Rey looks round at the dwindling guests, and grins at him.

“How about a spin in that fancy new car?”

“I don’t know if we’ll both even fit inside-”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” she reassures him, and taking his hand, they head for the door before anyone can notice they’re gone.

* * *

Ben’s hand slaps against the mattress, patting around her side of the bed, before he lets out a groan.

“What are you doing? What time is it?”

Rey tucks her legs underneath her, face illuminated by the glow of the laptop screen.

“I got an email about a fault report-”

“Five a.m. Rey. Five a.m.”

“Yes, but-”

“Come back to bed. You can wait a few hours.”

“It’s six in D.C,” she complains, crossing the room with her laptop in tow. When she tucks herself back in, Ben blindly reaches across her, trying to shut the lid.

“Don’t remind me.”

He’s scrolling through his email inbox, swiftly deleting more than half of the messages with only a cursory glance.

“Why is your mum emailing you at this time? You’ll see her in four hours.”

“I don’t know, Rey. She’s a workaholic. What was that therapist thinking, telling me men go for women who remind them of their mothers.”

His voice is deadpan, and when he puts his phone aside, Rey begrudgingly switches off the laptop.

“We can sleep for a few hours yet, right?”

“At least two. Two at the most. Maybe ninety minutes.”

“Go to sleep, Ben. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“I love you, Rey.”

“I love you too. Don't you dare pick that phone back up when I fall asleep.”

* * *

_Dear Ben,_

_I am so excited! Please don’t worry about picking us up from the airport, you have enough to worry about. C booked us a car, and we’re picking Laurie up on the way. All you have to worry about is the ring. We brought your grandmother’s old camera._

_Love,_  
_Mom_

_P.S. Please worry about the ring. I know I am. Your grandparents never forgave your father for letting me get engaged without one._

_Leia Organa, Ph.D._  
_Senator for Connecticut_  
_Founder, Alderaan Foundation_


End file.
